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SIR WALTER SCOTT 



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THE 
LADY OF THE LAKE 



BY 

SIR WALTER SCOTT 

n 



EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
BY GEORGE A. WASHBURNE, DEPARTMENT OF 
ENGLISH, CENTRAL HIGH SCHOOL, TOLEDO, OHIO 




NEW YORK 

CHARLES E. MERRILL COMPANY 



■X 



pitxxilV* (Enfflifii^ &ej;te 

This series of books includes in complete editions those master- 
pieces of English Literature that are best adapted for the use of 
schools and colleges. The editors of the several volumes are 
chosen for their special qualifications in connection with the texts 
issued under their individual supervision, but familiarity with 
the practical needs of the classroom, no less than sound scholar- 
ship, characterizes the editing of every book in the series. 

In connection with each text, a critical and historical introduc- 
tion, including a sketch of the life of the author and his relation 
to the thought of his time, critical opinions of the work in ques- 
tion chosen from the great body of English criticism, and, where 
possible, a portrait of the author are given. Ample explanatory 
notes of such passages in the text as call for special attention are 
supplied, but irrelevant annotation and explanations of the ob- 
vious are rigidly excluded. 

CHARLES E. MERRILL COMPANY. 



Copyright, 1912 

BY 

CHARLES E. MERRILL CO. 



©CI.A314705 
0t~ j 



' 



PREFATORY NOTE 

In preparing the short biographical sketch of Sir 
Walter Scott I have relied mainly on the Autobiog- 
raphy, Lockhart's Life of Scott , and the Dictionary of 
National Biography. The Historical Basis of the Poem 
has been taken from Scott's Tales of a Grandfather, 
and I have thought it wise to add the author's own 
preface to The Lady of the Lake. The questions 
which follow the notes and the paragraphs on the 
critical study of the poem are intended to be merely 
suggestive of intensive study and to be handled as 
the instructor thinks best. The text of this edition 
is that of Black's Author's Edition, with Rolfe's 
corrections. 

G. A. W. 



CONTENTS 

INTRODUCTION 

JrAtjE 

Sir Walter Scott 7 

The Historical Basis of the Poem ... 15 

The Author's Preface 22 

Critical Study of the Poem 28 

Critical Opinions 33 

THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Canto First: The Chase 35 

Canto Second: The Island 62 

Canto Third: The Gathering 93 

Canto Fourth: The Prophecy 121 

Canto Fifth: The Combat 151 

Canto Sixth: The Guard-Room . . . . . 183 

NOTES 217 

QUESTIONS AND TOPICS FOR STUDY ... 235 



INTRODUCTION 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 

In Sir Walter Scott the two literary movements of the eight- 
eenth century meet: the first, the triumph of romantic poetry, 
which reached its highest development later in the works of 
Wordsworth and Coleridge; and the second, the success of the 
narrative form of literature known as the novel, which had just 
come into prominence. Where a few felt drawn toward the 
poetry of Wordsworth, and those few after deep meditation, 
Scott's audience was immediate and most enthusiastic. He 
took the public by storm with his first original work — a series 
of spirited romances, The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, 
and The Lady of the Lake. Although no better stories had been 
told in English verse and their vogue was very great, the fickle 
public turned to Byron as soon as his early romances appeared; 
and then it was, in 1814, that Scott, nothing daunted by the 
knowledge that he had lost favor in the field of romantic poetry, 
gave to the world anonymously the narrative of adventure, 
humor, and charm known as Waverley. In quick succession 
came the series of the Waverley novels. When the authorship 
was found out, Sir Walter Scott, who had first attracted attention 
through the medium of metrical romance, was recognized as 
the creator of a new form of narrative prose literature. "So 
potent was his genius," says Andrew Lang, "so inspiring the 
martial tramp and clang of his measures, that he made the New 
World listen to the accents of the Old." 

Walter Scott was born at Edinburgh on the fifteenth day of 
August, 1771. His father was writer to the Signet, or an attor- 
ney-at-law, with a large practice. His mother was the daughter 

7 



8 INTRODUCTION 

of a professor in Edinburgh University. Walter was the ninth 
of twelve children, of whom the first six died young. 

His boyhood was unusual. "I was," says Scott in his auto- 
biography, "an uncommonly healthy child until I was about 
eighteen months old. One night, however, I exhibited an 
intense reluctance to be put to bed; and after having been chased 
around the room I was with difficulty consigned to my dormi- 
tory. It was the last time I was to show such personal agility. 
In the morning I was affected with fever; and in the course of 
three days afterwards it was discovered I had lost the power of 
my right leg." At the advice of Dr. John Rutherford, his 
grandfather, he was sent to live in the home of his father's 
father, Robert Scott, in the little village of Sandy-Knowe in 
Roxburgshire. The importance of these early days cannot be 
overestimated. In his fourth year he was sent to Bath in the 
care of his aunt, Miss Janet Scott, and there he remained about 
a year, learning to read at a day school in the neighborhood and 
profiting much by the companionship of his aunt, who read 
aloud to him old English and Scottish ballads until he could 
repeat long passages. 

From Bath he returned first to Edinburgh and then again to 
Sandy-Knowe, and when about eight years old he was removed 
to Prestonpans, as it was thought the sea bathing might prove 
beneficial to his lameness. Here he met an old military veteran, 
Dalgetty by name, who afterward became the original of Captain 
Dugald Dalgetty, whom with his redoubtable war horse, Gue:ta- 
vus Adolphus, readers of The Legend of Montrose hold in pleasant 
remembrance. From Prestonpans Scott was taken back to his 
father's house in Georges' Square, Edinburgh, and later in 1778 
he became a pupil in the Edinburgh High School. 

From the shepherds at his grandfather's home in Sandy- 
Knowe, from his grandfather, in whose youth the old Border 
depredations were a matter of recent tradition, from his Aunt 
Janet, and from the old books found at random about the house 
— such as collections of ballads, McPherson's Ossian, Ramsay's 
Tea-Table Miscellany, and Josephus's Wars of the Jews — the boy 
had stored his mind with many wild stories and much history 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 9 

concerning early Scotland and the brave deeds of the old 
Borderers. 

The period from the time he entered the Edinburgh High 
School until 1786, when he was apprenticed to his father, was 
really the formative period of Scott's life. As a pupil in the 
Edinburgh High School, he appears to have been by no means 
remarkable either for proficiency or for diligence; but his leisure 
hours were employed to good advantage in reading aloud to 
his mother, a woman of good taste and deep feeling, who 
succeeded in inculcating in his opening mind a discriminating 
love of literature. A list of books read by Scott before he 
became a man would seem to us most surprising, because of 
their general merit and wide range. Along with this desire for 
reading came a love of natural beauty acquired during his 
stay with his aunt at Kelso, where it was thought best to 
send him after a few years at Edinburgh. 

It was while attending the grammar school at Kelso that he 
became acquainted with James and John Ballantyne. Accord- 
ing to James Ballantyne, Scott was then devoted to antiquarian 
lore and was certainly the best story-teller he ever heard. "In 
the intervals of school hours," says Ballantyne, "it was our 
constant practice to walk together by the banks of the Tweed, 
and his stories appeared to be quite inexhaustible." This 
friendship with the Ballantynes continued through life, John 
having a share in the publication of many of Scott's works, 
while James was the printer of nearly all of them. 

Scott enrolled himself in 1783 in the humanity or Latin class 
under Professor Hill at the University of Edinburgh and in the 
Greek class under Professor Dalzel; the only other class for 
which he matriculated at the University was that of logic, under 
Professor Bruce in 1785. He made some progress with modern 
languages. He learned Spanish and read Cervantes ; he learned 
Italian and read Tasso and Ariosto; he steeped his mind in 
mediaeval romance and legend, and he still retained his fondness 
for the old ballads. 

Here, quite naturally, Scott's life divides into two main 
endeavors: the one, the practice of law, uncongenial and con- 



10 INTRODUCTION 

sequently without considerable recompense; and the other, 
developing gradually, the pouring forth of the wonderful Scottish 
and historical romances which mark his brilliant literary career. 

When fifteen, in 1786, he was apprenticed to his father for 
five years, and at twenty-one, July 10, 1792, he was called to 
the bar as an advocate. Lockhart tells us that Scott became a 
sound lawyer and might have been a great one. But he had the 
strongest aversion to the dry technicalities of law, to the con- 
finement and dull routine of office. His desk was usually 
supplied with a store of works of fiction, and with eagerness he 
sought out and read everything that had reference to knight- 
errantry. His amusements consisted of excursions on foot or on 
horseback. When he saw an old castle or a battlefield, his 
imagination immediately peopled it with combatants in their 
proper costumes, and his hearers were overwhelmed by the 
enthusiasm of his description. In Redgauntlet he gives us, in 
the person of Alan Fairford, a vivid picture of the tastes and 
occupations of this period of his own life. The love for anti- 
quarian lore, which so impressed James Ballantyne, was still 
his ruling passion, while his necessities were not so great as to 
make an exclusive application to his profession imperative. 

Although he could speak fluently at the bar, Scott's mind 
was not at all of a forensic cast and he was too much the abstract 
scholar to assume readily the mental attitude of an adroit 
pleader. He kept to the law for fourteen years or until he was 
thirty-five. He led a gay life and was extremely popular. He 
was appointed adjutant to a cavalry corps called the Royal 
Midlothian Regiment of Cavalry in 1779, an episode that he 
always looked back upon with the greatest pleasure. At twenty- 
eight he was appointed to the office of deputy sheriff of Selkirk, 
which secured him an annual salary of three hundred pounds, 
and seven years later he was elected Clerk of Quarter Sessions, 
a quarterly court of the justices of the peace of the county. 
Assured of the salary from this position, about eight hundred 
pounds at first, and increased later to thirteen hundred 
pounds, he gave up his practice at the bar, and decided that 
literature should thereafter form the main business of his life, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 11 

As he had inherited between five and six thousand pounds from 
a paternal uncle, and had a share of his deceased father's estate, 
his retirement from the bar was probably the most salutary 
thing he could have done. 

In his nineteenth year, while still apprenticed to his father, 
Scott fell in love with Margaret, daughter of Sir John and Lady 
Jane Stuart Belches of Ivernay. For some reason, most probably 
the difference in their social position, the hope that he might 
one day marry her was definitely abandoned. Shortly after- 
ward, during a visit to the English lakes, Scott met Miss Margaret 
Charpentier, the daughter of a French royalist who had fallen 
a victim to the excesses of the French Revolution. This lady 
he married at St. Mary's Church, Carlisle, on Christmas Eve, 
1797. The bride's dark brown eyes, black hair, and olive com- 
plexion gave her a rather foreign appearance ; her manners were 
somewhat foreign too, and she never lost the French accent in 
her speech. She possessed both beauty and some little fortune 
— about five hundred pounds annually — and was admirably 
suited to Scott both as a poet and as a man of the world. She 
died in 1826, leaving two sons and two daughters, the elder of 
whom married J. G. Lockhart, afterward Scott's biographer. 

Scott's literary career may be said to have commenced when 
he was twenty-five. In 1796, the year in which Burns died, he 
made his first appearance as a writer with a translation of Lenore 
and The Wild Huntsman from the German of Burger, which met 
with a favorable reception from a somewhat limited public. 
His first real literary success was his Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border j published in 1802. The edition was at once exhausted, 
and Scott found himself famous. In rapid succession came The 
Lay of the Last Minstrel (1805), forty-four thousand copies of 
which were sold before 1830, Marmion (1808), and The Lady of 
the Lake (1810). He now felt that in these first three successes 
he had exhausted his material, that he was not a poetic genius, 
as Burns was. We can see how accurately Scott had gauged 
matters when we know that only two years later (1812) Byron 
became the popular favorite through the great success of his 
Childe Harold. 



12 INTRODUCTION 

By chance one day Scott found the manuscript of a narrative 
begun and laid away some years before. He read it over, 
finished it quickly, and it appeared anonymously in 1814 as 
Waverley. His success as a poet was eclipsed by this new suc- 
cess. For many years the secret of the author's identity was 
kept, the great publishers of London and Edinburgh vying with 
each other in their efforts to buy a share in this first novel and 
the remarkable series which followed : Guy Mannering, in which 
we find the characters of Dandie Dinmont and Meg Merrilies 
the gypsy, was published in 1815; The Antiquary, Scott's 
favorite, The Black Dwarf, and Old Mortality, in 1816; Rob Roy 
and The Heart of Midlothian with the pathetic story of Effie 
Deans and her sister Jeanie, one of Scott's finest characters, in 
1818; Ivanhoe with its familiar characters of Richard Cceur de 
Lion, Rebecca, Rowena, and Robin Hood, in 1819; and Kenil- 
worth, the romance of Elizabethan England woven around the 
story of Amy Robsart, in 1821. 

Aside from his literary success, Sir Walter Scott stands as a 
true exponent of nobility and fine manhood in his private life. 
In 1805 Scott had formed a secret partnership with James 
Ballantyne, the friend of his youth, and had embarked in the 
printing business. He founded soon afterward a publishing 
house with John Ballantyne, but neither Scott nor John Bal- 
lantyne was a good business man and the concern was unprofit- 
able from the beginning. The novels had been sold to Constable, 
the distinguished publisher of Edinburgh, but by the terms of 
the sale Constable had been required to buy a large part of the 
stock of John Ballantyne & Co. in which Scott was a share- 
holder. In 1826, six years after Scott had been created a baronet 
by King George IV and after he had been elected President of 
the Royal Society of Edinburgh, so that he seemed to be beyond 
the reach of adverse fortune, the house of Constable & Co. was 
declared bankrupt. The printing firm of James Ballantyne & 
Co. held Constable's notes for large sums, and Scott and his 
partners found it necessary to declare their inability to meet 
business obligations. In the same year Lady Scott, who had 
been an invalid for some time, died, and Sir Walter himself 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 13 

began to fail in health. But he bravely set to work to pay 
off his indebtedness. He disliked the idea of being made a 
bankrupt publicly, and asked to be allowed to execute a trust- 
conveyance for the benefit of his creditors, saying that he would 
let no man lose by him if life were spared. 

Offers of assistance came from all sides, but with his brave 
slogan, "Time and I against any two," he set to work to pay 
off his indebtedness. He might have declared himself bankrupt, 
but "for this," he says, "in a court of honor I should deserve to 
lose my spurs." Fortunately his family was provided for and 
his estate saved, since it was entailed, and he settled down to 
literary work to release his indebtedness. The proceeds of his 
very first work published after the failure, the celebrated novel 
Woodstock, amounted to more than eight thousand pounds, and 
the next year two editions of The Life of Napoleon Bonaparte 
appeared, so that before Christmas, 1827, nearly forty thousand 
pounds had been realized. When Scott died, his trustees had 
an undistributed balance on hand which, with his life insurance 
and the money secured by the sale of his copyrights, was 
sufficient to pay all his debts. 

We cannot turn to the final page of Scott's life without a brief 
view of the place so intimately connected with his life, his ambi- 
tions, and his endeavors — Abbotsford. Scott had lived first at 
Tasswade on the Esk, six miles from Edinburgh, and had quitted 
Tasswade for Ashestiel in Selkirkshire, where he had lived in 
the house belonging to a cousin. But in 1811, in the first flush 
of the success of his poetry, he bought the estate of Abbotsford 
on the Tweed, with which his name is forever associated. Here 
he spent large sums enlarging, developing, and beautifying his 
ever-growing possessions, superintending the details of the 
improvements himself, and entertaining his many friends. 
When finally completed, the estate represented an immense 
expenditure and was costly in maintenance. Lady Scott at 
this time naively remarked that "Abbotsford was very like a 
large hotel, except that people did not pay." It was most 
pleasantly situated on the banks of the Tweed in the vicinity of 
Dryburgh Abbey, and the famous ruins of Melrose Abbey could 



14 INTRODUCTION 

be seen from the grounds, which had in fact once belonged to the 
abbot, — a splendid location for the spacious estate of a landed 
proprietor. 

In the winter of 1830 Scott's health began to fail, and before 
the close of that year he was attacked with apoplexy. He 
agreed to spend the ensuing winter in a warmer climate, and 
the British government placed a vessel at his disposal. He 
visited Malta, Naples, and Rome. In May, 1832, he went to 
Venice and made his way north through the Rhine country, 
reaching London in the early part of June. The river Tweed, 
Scotland, his native heath, were all calling him; "his great desire 
was to reach Abbotsford before he died, and in July he was 
prepared for the journey. He remained unconscious until he 
arrived within the sight of his own towers. He grew steadily 
weaker, and died peaceably September 21, 1832, in the second 
month of his sixty-second year. About seven years before, he 
had written in his diary, k i Square the odds and good night, Sir 
Walter, about sixty. I care not, if I leave my name unstained 
and my family property settled. Sat est vixisse." 



THE HISTORICAL BASIS OF THE POEM 15 



THE HISTORICAL BASIS OF THE POEM 

The following paragraphs are taken from Scott's Tales of a 
Grandfather. 

Highlanders and Borderers. There were two great divisions 
of the country, the Highlands namely, and the Borders, which 
were so much wilder and more barbarous than the others, that 
they might be said to be altogether without law; and although 
they were nominally subjected to the king of Scotland, yet when 
he desired to execute any justice in those great districts, he could 
not do so otherwise than by marching there in person, at the 
head of a strong body of forces, and seizing upon the offenders, 
and putting them to death with little or no form of trial. Such 
a rough course of justice, perhaps, made these disorderly countries 
quiet for a short time, but it rendered them still more averse 
to the royal government in their hearts, and disposed on the 
slightest occasion to break out, either into disorders amongst 
themselves, or into open rebellion. I must give you some more 
particular account of these wild and uncivilized districts of 
Scotland, and of the particular sort of people who were their 
inhabitants, that you may know what I mean when I speak of 
Highlanders and Borderers. 

The Highlands of Scotland, so called from the rocky and moun- 
tainous character of the country, consist of a very large propor- 
tion of the northern parts of that kingdom. It was into these 
pathless wildernesses that the Romans drove the ancient in- 
habitants of Great Britain; and it was from these that they 
afterward sallied to invade and distress that part of Britain which 
the Romans had conquered, and in some degree civilized. The 
inhabitants of the Highlands spoke, and still speak, a language 
totally different from the Lowland Scots. That last language 
does not greatly differ from English, and the inhabitants of both 
countries easily understand each other, though neither of them 
comprehend the Gaelic, which is the language of the Highlanders. 
The dress of these mountaineers was also different from that of 
the Lowlanders. They wore a plaid, or mantle of frieze, or of 



16 INTRODUCTION 

striped stuff called tartan, one end of which being wrapped round 
the waist, formed a short petticoat, which descended to the 
knee, while the rest was folded round them like a sort of cloak. 
They had buskins made of raw hide; and those who could get 
a bonnet, had that covering for their heads, though many never 
wore one during their whole lives, but had only their own shaggy 
hair tied back by a leathern strap. They went always armed, 
carrying bows and arrows, large swords, which they wielded 
with both hands, called claymores, pole-axes, and daggers for 
close fight. For defense, they had a round wooden shield, or 
target, stuck full of nails; and their great men had shirts of 
mail, not unlike to the flannel shirts now worn, only composed 
of links of iron, instead of threads of worsted; but the common 
men were so far from desiring armor, that they sometimes threw 
their plaids away, and fought in their shirts, which they wore 
very long and large, after the Irish fashion. 

This part of the Scottish nation was divided into clans, that 
is, tribes. The persons composing each of these clans believed 
themselves all to be descended, at some distant period, from the 
same common ancestor, whose name they usually bore. Thus, 
one tribe was called MacDonald, which signifies the sons of 
Donald; another MacGregor, or the sons of Gregor; MacNeil, 
the sons of Neil, and so on. Every one of these tribes had its 
own separate chief, or commander, whom they supposed to be 
the immediate representative of the great father of the tribe 
from whom they were all descended. To this chief they paid 
the most unlimited obedience, and willingly followed his com- 
mands in peace or war; not caring although, in doing so, they 
transgressed the laws of the king, or went into rebellion against 
the king himself. Each tribe lived in a valley, or district of 
the mountains, separated from the others; and they often made 
war upon and fought desperately with each other. But with 
Lowlanders they were always at war. They differed from them 
in language, in dress, and in manners; and they believed that 
the richer grounds of the low country had formerly belonged to 
their ancestors, and therefore they made incursions upon it, 
and plundered it without mercy. The Lowlanders, on the other 



THE HISTORICAL BASIS OF THE POEM 17 

hand, equal in courage and superior in discipline, gave many 
severe checks to the Highlanders; and thus there was almost 
constant war or discord between them, though natives of the 
same country. 

Some of the most powerful of the Highland chiefs set them- 
selves up as independent sovereigns. Such were the famous 
Lords of the Isles, called MacDonald, to whom the island, called 
the Hebrides, lying on the northwest of Scotland, might be said 
to belong in property. These petty sovereigns made alliances 
with the English in their own name. They took the part of 
Robert the Bruce in the wars, and joined him with their forces. 
We shall find that, after his time, they gave great disturbance to 
Scotland. The Lords of Lorn, MacDouglas by name, were also 
extremely powerful; and you have seen that they were able to 
give battle to Bruce, and to defeat him and place him in the 
greatest jeopardy. He revenged himself afterward by driving 
John of Lorn out of the country, and by giving great part of his 
possessions to his own nephew, Sir Colin Campbell, who became 
the first of the great family of Argyll, which afterward enjoyed 
such power in the Highlands. 

Upon the whole, you can easily understand that these High- 
land clans, living among such high and inaccessible mountains, 
and paying obedience to no one save their own chiefs, should 
have been instrumental in disturbing the tranquillity of the 
kingdom of Scotland. They had many virtues, being a kind, 
brave, and hospitable people, and remarkable for their fidelity 
to their chiefs; but they were restless, revengeful, fond of plunder, 
and delighting rather in war than in peace, and disorder than in 
repose. 

The Border counties were in a state little more favorable to a 
quiet or peaceful government. In some respects the inhabitants 
of the counties of Scotland lying opposite to England greatly 
resembled the Highlanders, and particularly in their being, like 
them, divided into clans, and having chiefs, whom they obeyed 
in preference to the king, or the officers whom he placed among 
them. How clanship came to prevail in the Highlands and 
Borders, and not in the provinces which separated them from 



18 INTRODUCTION 

each other, it is not easy to conjecture, but the fact was so. The 
Borders are not, indeed, so mountainous and inaccessible a 
country as the Highlands ; but they also are full of hills, especially 
on the more western part of the frontier, and were in early times 
covered with forests, and divided by small rivers and morasses, 
into dales and valleys, where the different clans lived, making 
war sometimes on the English, sometimes on each other, and 
sometimes on the more civilized country which lay behind them. 

But though the Borderers resembled the Highlanders in their 
mode of government and habits of plundering, and, as it may be 
truly added, in their disobedience to the general government of 
Scotland, yet they differed in many particulars. The High- 
landers fought always on foot, the Borderers were all horsemen. 
The Borderers spoke the same language with the Lowlanders, 
wore the same sort of dress, and carried the same arms. Being 
accustomed to fight against the English, they were also much 
better disciplined than the Highlanders. But in point of obedi- 
ence to the Scottish government, they were not much different 
from the clans of the north. 

James V of Scotland. James V displayed most of the qualities 
of a wise and good prince. He was handsome in his person, 
and resembled his father in the fondness for military exercises, 
and the spirit of chivalrous honor which James IV loved to dis- 
play. He also inherited his father's love of justice, and his desire 
to establish and enforce wise and equal laws, which should protect 
the weak against the oppression of the great. It was easy to 
make laws, but to put them in vigorous exercise was of much 
greater difficulty ; and in his attempt to accomplish this laudable 
purpose, James often incurred the ill will of the more powerful 
nobles. He was a well-educated and accomplished man; and 
like his ancestor, James I, was a poet and a musician. He had, 
however, his defects. He avoided his father's failing of profusion, 
having no hoarded treasures to employ on pomp and show; but 
he rather fell into the opposite fault, being of a temper too parsi- 
monious ; and though he loved state and display, he endeavored 
to gratify that taste as economically as possible, so that he has 
been censured as rather close and covetous. He was also, 



THE HISTORICAL BASIS OF THE POEM 19 

though the foibles seem inconsistent, fond of pleasure, and 
disposed to too much indulgence. It must be added, that when 
provoked, he was unrelenting even to cruelty; for which he had 
some apology, considering the ferocity of the subjects over whom 
he reigned. But, on the whole, James V was an amiable man 
and a good sovereign. 

His first care was to bring the Borders of Scotland to some 
degree of order. These, as you w T ere formerly told, were in- 
habited by tribes of men, forming each a different clan, as they 
were called, and obeying no orders save those which were given 
by their chiefs. These chiefs were supposed to represent the 
first founder of the name, or family. The attachment of the 
clansmen to the chief w T as very great: indeed, they paid respect 
to no one else. In this the Borderers agreed with the High- 
landers, as also in their love of plunder and neglect of the general 
laws of the country. But the Border men wore no tartan dress, 
and served almost always on horseback, whereas the Highlanders 
acted always on foot. You will also remember that the Borderers 
spoke the Scottish language, and not the Gaelic tongue used by 
the mountaineers. 

The situation of these clans on the frontiers exposed them to 
constant war; so that they thought of nothing else but of collect- 
ing bands of their followers together, and making incursions, 
without much distinction, on the English, on the Lowland (or 
inland) Scots, or upon each other. They paid little respect 
either to times of truce or treaties of peace, but exercised their 
depredations without regard to either, and often occasioned wars 
betwixt England and Scotland which would not otherwise have 
taken place. As their insolence had risen to a high pitch after 
the field of Flodden had thrown the country into confusion, 
James V resolved to take very severe measures against them. 

His first step was to secure the persons of the principal chief- 
tains by whom these disorders were privately encouraged. The 
Earl of Bothwell, the Lord Home, Lord Maxwell, Scott of 
Buccleuch, Ker of Fairniehirst, and other powerful chiefs, who 
might have opposed the king's purposes, were seized, and 
imprisoned in separate fortresses in the inland country. 



20 INTRODUCTION 

James then assembled an army, in which warlike purposes 
were united with those of sylvan sport; for he ordered all the 
gentlemen in the wild districts which he intended to visit to 
bring their best dogs, as if his only purpose had been to hunt 
the deer in those desolate regions. This was to prevent the 
Borderers from taking the alarm, in which case they would have 
retreated into their mountains and fastnesses, from whence it 
would have been difficult to dislodge them. 

These men had indeed no distinct idea of the offences which 
they had committed, and consequently no apprehension of the 
king's displeasure against them. The laws had been so long 
silent in that remote and disorderly country, that the outrages 
which were practiced by the strong against the weak seemed to 
the perpetrators the natural course of society, and to present 
nothing that was worthy of punishment. 

Thus, as the king in the beginning of his expedition suddenly 
approached the castle of Piers Cockburn of Henderland, that 
baron was in the act of providing a great entertainment to wel- 
come him, when James caused him to be suddenly seized on 
and executed. Adam Scott of Tushielaw, called the King of the 
Border, met the same fate. 

In the like manner James proceeded against the Highland 
chiefs; and by executions, forfeitures, and other severe measures 
he brought the northern mountaineers, as he had already done 
those of the south, into comparative subjection. He then set 
at liberty the Border chiefs, and others whom he had imprisoned, 
lest they should have offered any hindrance to the course of his 
justice. 

James was very fond of hunting, and when he pursued that 
amusement in the Highlands he used to wear the peculiar dress 
of that country, having a long and wide Highland shirt and a 
jacket of Tartan velvet, with plaid hose, and everything else 
corresponding. The accounts for these are in the books of his 
chamberlain, still preserved. 

The reign of James V was not alone distinguished by his 
personal adventures and pastimes, but is honorably remembered 
on account of wise laws made for the government of his people, 



THE HISTORICAL BASIS OF THE POEM 21 

and for restraining the crimes and violence which were frequently 
practiced among them; especially those of assassination, burning 
of houses, and driving of cattle — the usual and ready means 
by which powerful chiefs avenged themselves of their feudal 
enemies. 



22 INTRODUCTION 



THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE 

After the success of Marmion, I felt inclined to exclaim with 
Ulysses in the Odyssey: 

"One venturous game my hand has won to-day — 
Another, gallants, yet remains to play." 

The ancient manners, the habits and customs of the aboriginal 
race by whom the Highlands of Scotland were inhabited, had 
always appeared to me peculiarly adapted to poetry. The 
change in their manners, too, had taken place almost within my 
own time, or at least I had learned many particulars concerning 
the ancient state of the Highlands from the old men of the last 
generation. 1 had always thought the old Scottish Gael highly 
adapted for poetical composition. The feuds and political dis- 
cussions which, half a century earlier, would have rendered the 
richer and wealthier part of the kingdom indisposed to counte- 
nance a poem, the scene of which was laid in the Highlands, were 
now sunk in the generous compassion which the English, more 
than any other nation, feel for the misfortunes of an honorable 
foe. The poems of Ossian had, by their popularity, sufficiently 
shown that if writings on Highland subjects were qualified to 
interest the reader, mere national prejudices were, in the present 
day, very unlikely to interfere with their success. 

I had also read a great deal, seen much, and heard more of that 
romantic country where I was in the habit of spending some time 
every autumn; and the scenery of Loch Katrine w T as connected 
with the recollection of many a dear friend and merry expedition 
of former days. This poem, the action of which lay among scenes 
so beautiful and so deeply imprinted on my recollections, was 
a labor of love, and it was no less so to recall the manners and 
incidents introduced. The frequent custom of James IV, and 
particularly of James V, to walk through their kingdom in 
disguise, afforded me the hint of an incident which never fails 
to be interesting if managed with the slightest address or 
dexterity. 



THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE 23 

I may now confess, however, that the employment, though 
attended with great pleasure, was not without its doubts and 
anxieties. A lady, to whom I was nearly related, and with whom 
I lived, during her whole life, on the most brotherly terms of 
affection, was residing with me at the time when the work was 
in progress, and used to ask me what I could possibly do to rise 
so early in the morning (that happening to be the most convenient 
to me for composition). At last I told her the subject of my 
meditations; and I can never forget the anxiety and affection 
expressed in her reply. "Do not be so rash," she said, "my 
dearest cousin. You are already popular — more so, perhaps, 
than you yourself will believe, or than even I, or other partial 
friends, can fairly allow to your merit. You stand high — do 
not rashly attempt to climb higher, and incur the risk of a 
fall; for, depend upon it, a favorite will not be permitted 
even to stumble with impunity/ ' I replied to this affectionate 
expostulation in the words of Montrose : 

"He either fears his fate too much, 
Or his deserts are small, 
Who dares not put it to the touch 
To gain or lose it all." 

"If I fail," I said, for the dialogue is strong in my recollection, 
"it is a sign that I ought never to have succeeded, and I will 
write prose for life: you shall see no change in my temper, nor 
will I eat a single meal the worse. But if I succeed, 

" 'Up with the bonnie blue bonnet, 
The dirk, and the feather, and a' ! '" 

Afterward I showed my affectionate and anxious critic the 
first canto of the poem, which reconciled her to my imprudence. 
Nevertheless, although I answered thus confidently, with the 
obstinacy often said to be proper to those who bear my surname, 
I acknowledge that my confidence was considerably shaken by 
the warning of her excellent taste and unbiased friendship. 
Nor was I much comforted by her retraction of the unfavorable 
judgment, when I recollected how likely a natural partiality 



24 INTRODUCTION 

was to effect that change of opinion. In such cases, affection 
rises like a light on the canvas, improves any favorable tints 
which it formerly exhibited, and throws its defects into the 
shade. 

I remember that about the same time a friend started in to 
"heeze up my hope," like the " sportsman with his cutty gun," 
in the old song. He was bred a farmer, but a man of powerful 
understanding, natural good taste, and warm poetical feeling, 
perfectly competent to supply the wants of an imperfect or 
irregular education. He was a passionate admirer of field sports, 
which we often pursued together. 

As this friend happened to dine with me at Ashestiel one day, 
I took the opportunity of reading to him the first canto of The 
Lady of the Lake, in order to ascertain the effect the poem was 
likely to produce upon a person who was but too favorable a 
representative of readers at large. It is, of course, to be sup- 
posed, that I determined rather to guide my opinion by what 
my friend might appear to feel, than by what he might think 
fit to say. His reception of my recitation, or prelection, was 
rather singular. He placed his hand across his brow, and listened 
with great attention through the whole account of the stag 
hunt, till the dogs threw themselves into the lake to follow their 
master, who embarks with Ellen Douglas. He then started up 
with a sudden exclamation, struck his hand on the table, and 
declared, in a voice of censure calculated for the occasion, that 
the dogs must have been totally ruined by being permitted to 
take the water after such a severe chase. I own I was much 
encouraged by the species of reverie which had possessed so 
zealous a follower of the sports of the ancient Nimrod, who had 
been completely surprised out of all doubts of the reality of the 
tale. Another of his remarks gave me less pleasure. He de- 
tected the identity of the king with the wandering knight, Fitz- 
James, when he winds his bugle to summon his attendants. 
He was probably thinking of the lively, but somewhat licentious, 
old ballad, in which the denouement of a royal intrigue takes 
place as follows: 



THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE 25 

"He took a bugle frae his side, 
He blew both loud and shrill, 
And four-and-twenty belted knights 

Came skipping ower the hill; 
Then he took out a little knife, 

Let a' his duddies fa', 
And he was the brawest gentleman, 
That was amang them a', 

And we'll go no more a-roving," etc. 

This discovery, as Mr. Pepys says of the rent in his camlet 
cloak, was but a trifle, yet it troubled me; and I was at a good 
deal of pains to efface any marks by which I thought my secret 
could be traced before the conclusion, when I relied on it with 
the same hope of producing effect, with which the Irish postboy 
is said to reserve a "trot for the avenue." 

I took uncommon pains to verify the accuracy of the local 
circumstances of this story. I recollect in particular, that to 
ascertain whether I was telling a probable tale, I went into 
Perthshire to see whether King James could actually have ridden 
from the banks of Loch Vennachar to Stirling Castle within the 
time supposed in the poem, and had the pleasure to satisfy 
myself that it was quite practicable. 

After considerable delay, The Lady of the Lake appeared in 
June, 1810; and its success was certainly so extraordinary as to 
induce me for the moment to conclude that I had at last fixed a 
nail in the proverbially inconstant wheel of fortune, whose 
stability in behalf of an individual who had so boldly courted 
her favors for three successive times had not as yet been shaken. 
I had attained, perhaps, that degree of reputation at which 
prudence, or certainly timidity, would have made a halt, and 
discontinued efforts by which I was far more likely to diminish 
my fame than to increase it. But, as the celebrated John Wilkes 
is said to have explained to his late Majesty, that he himself, 
amid his full tide of popularity, was never a Wilkite, so I can, 
with honest truth, exculpate myself from having been at any 
time a partisan of my own poetry, even when it was in the highest 
fashion with the million. It must not be supposed that I was 



26 INTRODUCTION 

either so ungrateful, or so superabundantly candid, as to despise 
or scorn the value of those whose voice had elevated me so much 
higher than my opinion told me I deserved. I felt, on the con- 
trary, the more grateful to the public, as receiving that from 
partiality to me, which I could not have claimed from merit; 
and I endeavored to deserve the partiality by continuing such 
exertions as I was capable of for their amusement. 

It may be that I did not, in this continued course of scribbling, 
consult either the interest of the public or my own. But the 
former had effectual means of defending themselves, and could, 
by their coldness, sufficiently check any approach to intrusion; 
but, for myself, I had now for several years dedicated my hours 
so much to literary labor that I should have felt difficulty in 
employing myself otherwise; and so, like Dogberry, I generously 
bestowed all my tediousness on the public, comforting myself 
with the reflection, that if posterity should think me undeserving 
of the favor with which I was regarded by my contemporaries, 
"they could not but say I had the crown," and had enjoyed for a 
time that popularity which is so much coveted. 

I conceived, however, that I held the distinguished situation 
I had obtained, however unworthily, rather like the champion 
of pugilism l on the condition of being always ready to show 
proofs of my skill, than in the manner of the champion of chivalry, 
who performs his duties only on rare and solemn occasions. I 
was in any case conscious that I could not long hold a situation 
which the caprice, rather than the judgment, of the public, had 
bestowed upon me, and preferred being deprived of my prece- 
dence by some more worthy rival, to sinking into contempt for 
my indolence, and losing my reputation by what Scottish lawyers 
call the negative prescription. Accordingly, those who choose to 
look at the Introduction to Rokeby will be able to trace the steps 
by which I declined as a poet to figure as a novelist; as the ballad 

i^In twice five years the greatest living poet, 
Like to the champion in the fisty ring, 
Is called on to support his claim, or show it, 
Although 'tis an imaginary thing," etc. 

— Don Juan, Canto IX, Stanza 55, 



THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE 27 

says, " Queen Eleanor sunk at Charing Cross to rise again at 
Queenhithe." 

It only remains for me to say, that, during my short preemi- 
nence of popularity, I faithfully observed the rules of moderation 
which I had resolved to follow before I began my course as a 
man of letters. If a man is determined to make a noise in the 
world, he is as sure to encounter abuse and ridicule, as he who 
gallops furiously through a village must reckon on being followed 
by the curs in full cry. Experienced persons know, that in 
stretching to flog the latter, the rider is very apt to catch a 
bad fall; nor is an attempt to chastise a malignant critic at- 
tended with less danger to the author. On this principle, I 
let parody, burlesque, and squibs find their own level; and 
while the latter hissed most fiercely I was cautious never to 
catch them up, as schoolboys do to throw them back against 
the naughty boy who fired them off, wisely remembering that 
they are, in such cases, apt to explode in the handling. Let me 
add, that my reign * (since Byron has so called it) was marked 
by some instances of good nature as well as patience. I never 
refused a literary person of merit such services in smoothing his 
way to the public as were in my power; and I had the advantage, 
rather an uncommon one with our irritable race, to enjoy general 
favor, without incurring permanent ill will, so far as is known to 
me, among any of my contemporaries. 

W. S. 

Abbotsford, April, 1830. 

1<4 Sir Walter reigned before me," etc. 

— Don Juan, Canto XI, Stanza 57. 



28 INTRODUCTION 



CRITICAL STUDY OF THE POEM 

In The Lady of the Lake — a story softer and more idyllic 
than Marmion, more interesting and better developed than The 
Lay of the Last Minstrel — Scott was approaching the develop- 
ment of broad historical plot which was to make him famous 
later in his prose romances. Any attempt at a careful view of 
this poem must embrace an investigation of the writing of the 
narrative, the scene of the brightly and firmly painted romantic 
setting, the picturesque but by no means psychologically de- 
veloped characters, the interpretation of the narrative itself, 
and some of the more noticeable technicalities involved in its 
form and meter. 

The Lady of the Lake appeared in 1810. The success was 
immediate. Mr. Cadell, the publisher, said, "The whole country 
rang with the praises of the poet; crowds set off to view the 
scenery of Loch Katrine, till then comparatively unknown; 
and as the book came out just before the season for excursions, 
every house and inn in that neighborhood was crowded with a 
constant succession of visitors." It was thought that with two 
such splendid works to his account as The Lay of the Last Min- 
strel and Marmion, Scott was rash to tempt fate with a third 
effort. He was even advised against it. But with the first 
edition of The Lady of the Lake, in quarto, two thousand and 
fifty copies were sold, and within the year four octavo editions 
were disposed of. 

Scott discovered, so far as literary use is concerned, the region 
which makes the setting of the romance. He had visited the 
Western Highlands of Perthshire twenty years before, when he 
was an apprentice at law, and their romantic scenery had charmed 
him then. At this time the roads were difficult of access and 
few strangers had visited the country, Loch Katrine and the 
Trosachs being practically unknown. After he had decided to 
use these regions of romantic beauty as the background for his 
story, in the summer of 1809, anxious to renew his recollection 
and obtain accuracy of description, he revisited that district. 



CRITICAL STUDY OF THE POEM 29 

He carefully noted the natural beauty, with a view toward 
writing some of his descriptions. Then, too, from his many 
researches in antiquarian lore he knew the traditions of the 
Scottish Highlanders and Lowlanders, and their dress, customs, 
and peculiarities, which were to add the quaint touch to the 
picturesque painting. 

The plot was skilfully managed with a literary device of the 
time, that of concealed identity, and so well managed that 
even to one who knows the story perfectly the denouement loses 
nothing of its dramatic charm and power. In fact, the artistic 
gracefulness of the whole story is perhaps its greatest excellence 
— the chase which forms an admirable introduction, the simple 
courtesy of a delightful heroine, the badinage of the hunter, 
the game of cross purposes in which Gael and Saxon come into 
powerful relief in character delineation, all leading toward the 
inevitable guardroom scene of the Sixth Canto. The plot and 
the characters stand out boldly from the canvas of the Scottish 
Highlands. 

In interpretation nothing could be simpler than this narrative 
of pure romance. Here is nothing involved, nothing subtle. 
As Robert Louis Stevenson says, "Walter Scott is out and away 
the king of the romantics. The Lady of the Lake has no indisput- 
able claim to be a poem, beyond the inherent fitness and desir- 
ability of the tale. It is just such a story as a man would make 
up for himself, walking, in the best of health and temper, through 
just such scenes as it is laid in. Hence it is that a charm dwells 
undefinable among those slovenly verses, as the unseen cuckoo 
fills the mountains with his note; hence, even after we have 
flung the book aside, the scenery and adventures remain present 
to the mind, a new and green possession, not unworthy of that 
beautiful name, The Lady of the Lake, or the direct romantic 
opening, — one of the most spirited and poetical in literature, — 
'The stag at eve had drunk his fill/" 

While, as has been hinted in the quotation above, the verse 
is not perfect, the meter ought to afford little difficulty to the 
student. The Lady of the Lake is written in the romantic measure 
of English poetry called iambic tetrameter, arranged in rhymed 



30 INTRODUCTION 

couplets, and variously combined with trimeters. To make 
this clear, we should here explain meter somewhat carefully. 
The chief difference between prose and poetry is that, while 
prose consists of many irregularly arranged syllables, poetry 
makes the arrangement regular. Therefore every line of poetry 
is made up of a certain number of syllable-groups. A line is 
called monometer, dimeter, trimeter, tetrameter, pentameter, 
and hexameter, as it contains respectively one, two, three, four, 
five, or six syllable-groups. These groups may be a trochee, a 
foot of one accented and one unaccented syllable ; an iambus 
or iam, a foot of an unaccented and an accented syllable; a 
dactyl containing three syllables, the first accented and the other 
two unaccented; an anapest, two unaccented and one accented; 
or a spondee, two accented syllables. 

The Lady of the Lake is written in iambic tetrameter, or four 
syllable-groups each containing two syllables, the first un- 
accented, the second accented, and rhyming in couplets. The 
first two lines of the poem proper scan thus: 

The stag | at eve | had drunk | his fill 

Where danced | the moon | on Mo | nan's rill. 

The rhyme of the poem is inspired principally by Coleridge's 
Christabel, which was read to Scott by a mutual friend while 
it was yet in manuscript. 

As any arrangement of meter, if not varied, will become 
monotonous, Scott provides variation in the introductory 
Spenserian stanzas to each canto, in the different songs of the 
poem, and in the substitution now and then of the trochee or 
anapest for the iambus. Each canto opens with one or more 
Spenserian stanzas, so called because first used by Spenser in 
his Fairy Queen. The Spenserian stanza consists of eight lines 
of ten syllables followed by a line of twelve syllables, the accent 
being on the even syllables; that is, the iambic measure. The 
stanza as a whole is bound together with three sets of rhyme: 
one for the first and third lines; another for the second, fourth, 
fifth, and seventh; and a third for the sixth, eighth, and ninth 



CRITICAL STUDY OF THE POEM 31 

lines. In the concluding Spenserian stanzas of the poem there 
is a graceful return to the reference to Scottish Minstrelsy. 

The songs throughout the poem are of varying meter. The 
first song in Canto First is written in trochaic tetrameter, the 
alternate lines rhyming, as 

Soldier | rest! thy | warfare | o'er, 
/ / / 

Sleep the | sleep that | knows not | breaking; 
* i i / 

Dream of | battled | fields no | more, 
/ / / / 

Days of | danger, | nights of | waking. 

In Canto Second the song of Allan-bane is written in iambic 
tetrameter with the second and fifth lines iambic trimeter. 
The rhyming lines are the first, third, and fourth lines; the 
second and fifth; the sixth and seventh; and the eighth and 

ninth, as 

f t t t 

Not fas | ter yon | der row | ers' might 

Flings from | their oars | the spray, 

/ / f ' 

Not fas | ter yon | der rip | pling bright, 
/ / / / 

That tracks | the shal | lop's course | in light, 

Melts in | the lake | away, 

Than men | from mem | ory erase 

The ben | efits | of for | mer days; 

/ / t f 

Then, Strang | er, go! | good speed | the while, 
Nor think | again | of the lone | ly isle. 

The Boat Song also in Canto Second (11. 399-438) has a varied 
meter, being written in dactylic feet. The first four, the seventh, 
and the tenth lines are dactylic tetrameter, and the remaining 
lines are dactylic dimeter. 

/ / * t 

Hail to the | Chief who in | triumph ad | vances! 

Honored and | blessed be the | ever-green | Pine! 
/ / / / 

Long may the | tree, in his | banner that | glances, 



32 INTRODUCTION 

r t 

Flourish, the | shelter and | grace of our | line! 
f i 

Heaven send it | happy dew, 
Earth lend it | sap anew. 

The most difficult of conception as to meter is the Coronach 
in Canto Third (11. 370-393). The meter seems to be anapestic, 
but it has been called amphibrachic, which is a foot of three 
syllables, having the first and third unaccented, the second 
accented. If anapestic, the lines will be scanned thus : 

r t 

He is gone | on the moun | tain, 
He is lost | to the for | est. 

If amphibrachic, the scansion is: 

He | is gone on | the mountain, 
He | is lost to | the forest. 

By carefully studying the meter here in these three songs 
which we have chosen, we shall find the others quite simple. 
Scott's meter is the true English counterpart, if there be one, of 
the meter of Homer. 

Finally, then, what is the enduring charm of The Lady of the 
Lake f The style of the poem is in many places rough and un- 
polished, owing, no doubt, to the high rate of speed at which 
Scott wrote. The poet himself said, "I am sensible that if there 
be anything good about my poetry it is a hurried frankness of 
composition which pleases soldiers, sailors, and young people of 
bold and active disposition/ ' The verse works wonderful magic; 
the vehicle of the story is good. Whether we are conscious of it 
or not, a virility pervades the narrative which, on the one hand, 
makes us admire the healthy nature and quick sympathies of 
the author and, on the other hand, makes us better for having 
been able to appreciate the work. As John Dennis said, " What- 
ever was lovely and of good report was loved by him, and the 
stamp of healthy nature is left on all he has written/ ' 



CRITICAL OPINIONS 33 



CRITICAL OPINIONS 

" There is nothing in Mr. Scott, of the serene and majestic style 
of Milton — or the terse and fine composition of Pope — or of the 
elaborate elegance and melody of Campbell — or even of the flow- 
ing and redundant diction of Southey. But there is a medley of 
bright images and glowing words, set carelessly and loosely to- 
gether — a diction tinged successively with the careless richness of 
Shakespeare, the harshness and antique simplicity of the old ro- 
mance, the homeliness of vulgar ballads and anecdotes, and the sen- 
timental glitter of the most modern poetry — passing from the 
borders of the ludicrous to those of the sublime — alternately 
minute and energetic — sometimes artificial and frequently negli- 
gent — but always full of spirit and vivacity — abounding in 
images that are striking, at first sight, to minds of every con- 
texture — and never expressing a sentiment which it can cost the 
most ordinary reader any exertion to comprehend.' ' — Francis 
Jeffrey in The Edinburgh Review, August, 1810. 

"All Scott's verse is written for boys; and boys, generation 
after generation, will love it with the same freshness of response. 
It has adventure, manliness, bright landscape, fighting, the obvious 
emotions ; it is like a gallop across the moors in a blithe wind; it 
has plenty of story, and is almost as easily read as if it were 
prose. . . . But it is well, perhaps, that there should be a poet 
for the boys and for those grown-up people who are most like 
boys." — Arthur Symons, in The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 94, page 
669, November, 1904. 

"In Scott's narrative poems the scenery is accessory and sub- 
ordinate. It is a picturesque background to his figures, a land- 
scape through which the action rushes like a torrent, catching a 
hint of color perhaps from rock or tree, but never any image so 
distinct that it tempts us aside to reverie or meditation." — James 
Russell Lowell. 



ARGUMENT 

The scene of the following poem is laid chiefly in the vicinity 
of Loch Katrine in the Western Highlands of Perthshire. The 
time of action includes six days and the transactions of each 
day occupy a canto. 




c3 
M 

•a 

o 

h3 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



CANTO FIRST 

The Chase 

Harp of the North! that mouldering long hast hung 

On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring, 
And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, 

Till envious ivy did around thee cling, 

Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — 5 

Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep? 

Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, 
Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, 
Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep? 

Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 10 

Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, 
When lay of hopeless love, or glory won, 

Aroused the fearful or subdued the proud. 

At each according pause was heard aloud 
Thine ardent symphony sublime and high! 15 

Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed; 
For still the burden of thy minstrelsy 
Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's 
matchless eye. 

0, wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand 
That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray; 20 

35 



36 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

O, wake once more! though scarce my skill command 
Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay: 
Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, 

And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, 

Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 25 

The wizard note has not been touched in vain. 

Then silent be no more! Enchantress, wake again! 



The stag at eve had drunk his fill, 

Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 

And deep his midnight lair had made 30 

In lone Glenartney's hazel shade; 

But when the sun his beacon red 

Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 

The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay 

Resounded up the rocky way, 35 

And faint, from farther distance borne, 

Were heard the clanging hoof and horn t 

II 

As Chief, who hears his warder call, 

'To arms! the foemen storm the wall/ 

The antlered monarch of the waste 40 

Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 

But ere his fleet career he took, 

The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; 

Like crested leader proud and high 

Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky; 45 

A moment gazed adown the dale, 



CANTO FIRST 37 

A moment snuffed the tainted gale, 

A moment listened to the cry, 

That thickened as the chase drew nigh; 

Then, as the headmost foes appeared, 50 

With one brave bound the copse he cleared, 

And, stretching forward free and far, 

Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 

Ill 

Yelled on the view the opening pack; 

Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back; 55 

To many a mingled sound at once 

The awakened mountain gave response. 

A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, 

Clattered a hundred steeds along, 

Their peal the merry horns rung out, 60 

A hundred voices joined the shout; 

With hark and whoop and wild halloo, 

No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. 

Far from the tumult fled the roe, 

Close in her covert cowered the doe, 65 

The falcon, from her cairn on high, 

Cast on the rout a wondering eye, 

Till far beyond her piercing ken 

The hurricane had swept the glen. 

Faint, and more faint, its failing din 70 

Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn, 

And silence settled, wide and still, 

On the lone wood and mighty hill. 



38 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

IV 
Less loud the sounds of sylvan war 
Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 75 

And roused the cavern where, 't is told, 
A giant made his den of old; 
For ere that steep ascent was won, 
High in his pathway hung the sun, 
And many a gallant, stayed perforce, 80 

Was fain to breathe his faltering horse, 
And of the trackers of the deer 
Scarce half the lessening pack was near; 
So shrewdly on the mountain-side 
Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 85 

V 

The noble stag was pausing now 

Upon the mountain's southern brow, 

Where broad extended, far beneath, 

The varied realms of fair Menteith. 

With anxious eye he wandered o'er 90 

Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, 

And pondered refuge from his toil, 

By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 

But nearer was the copsewood gray 

That waved and wept on Loch Achray, 95 

And mingled with the pine-trees blue 

On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. 

Fresh vigor with the hope returned, 

With flying foot the heath he spurned, 

Held westward with unwearied race, 100 

And left behind the panting chase. 



CANTO FIRST 39 

VI 

'T were long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 

As swept the hunt through Cambusmore; 

What reins were tightened in despair, 

When rose Benledi's ridge in air; 105 

Who flagged upon Boehastle's heath, 

Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith, — 

For twice that day, from shore to shore, 

The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 

Few were the stragglers, following far, 110 

That reached the lake of Vennachar; 

And when the Brigg of Turk was won, 

The headmost horseman rode alone. 

VII 

Alone, but with unbated zeal, 

That horseman plied the scourge and steel; 115 

For jaded now, and spent with toil, 

Embossed with foam, and dark with soil, 

While every gasp with sobs he drew, 

The laboring stag strained full in view. 

Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, 120 

Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed, 

Fast on his flying traces came, 

And all but won that desperate game; 

For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, 

Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds stanch; 125 

Nor nearer might the dogs attain, 

Nor farther might the quarry strain. 

Thus up the margin of the lake, 



40 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Between the precipice and brake, 

O'er stock and rock their race they take. 130 

VIII 

The Hunter marked that mountain high, 

The lone lake's western boundary, 

And deemed the stag must turn to bay, 

Where that huge rampart barred the way; 

Already glorying in the prize, 135 

Measured his antlers with his eyes; 

For the death-wound and death-halloo 

Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew: 

But thundering as he came prepared, 

With ready arm and weapon bared, 140 

The wily quarry shunned the shock, 

And turned him from the opposing rock; 

Then, dashing down a darksome glen, 

Soon lost to hound and Hunter's k^n, 

In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 145 

His solitary refuge took. 

There, while close couched the thicket shed 

Cold dews and wild flowers on his head, 

He heard the baffled dogs in vain 

Rave through the hollow pass amain, 150 

Chiding the rocks that yelled again. 

IX 

Close on the hounds the Hunter came, 
To cheer them on the vanished game; 
But, stumbling in the rugged dell, 



CANTO FIRST 41 

The gallant horse exhausted fell. 155 

The impatient rider strove in vain 

To rouse him with the spur and rein, 

For the good steed, his labors o'er, 

Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more; 

Then, touched with pity and remorse, 160 

He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. 

' I little thought, when first thy rein 

I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 

That Highland eagle e'er should feed 

On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed! 165 

Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, 

That costs thy life, my gallant gray ! ' 

X 

Then through the dell his horn resounds, 

From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 

Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 170 

The sulky leaders of the chase; 

Close to their master's side they pressed, 

With drooping tail and humbled crest; 

But still the dingle's hollow throat 

Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 175 

The owlets started from their dream, 

The eagles answered with their scream, 

Round and around the sounds were cast, 

Till echo seemed an answering blast; 

And on the Hunter hied his way, 180 

To join some comrades of the day, 

Yet often paused, so strange the road, 

So wondrous were the scenes it showed. 



42 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

XI 

The western waves of ebbing day 

Rolled o'er the glen their level way; 185 

Each purple peak, each flinty spire, 

Was bathed in floods of living fire. 

But not a setting beam could glow 

Within the dark ravines below, 

Where twined the path in shadow hid. 190 

Round many a rocky pyramid, 

Shooting abruptly from the dell 

Its thunder-splintered pinnacle; 

Round many an insulated mass, 

The native bulwarks of the pass, 195 

Huge as the tower which builders vain 

Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 

The rocky summits, split and rent, 

Formed turret, dome, or battlement, 

Or seemed fantastically set 200 

With cupola or minaret, 

Wild crests as pagod ever decked, 

Or mosque of Eastern architect. 

Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 

Nor lacked they many a banner fair; 205 

For, from their shivered brows displayed, 

Far o'er the unfathomable glade, 

All twinkling with the dewdrop sheen, 

The brier-rose fell in streamers green, 

And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes 210 

Waved in the west-wind's summer sighs. 



CANTO FIRST 43 

XII 

Boon nature scattered, free and wild, 

Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 

Here eglantine embalmed the air, 

Hawthorne and hazel mingled there; 215 

The primrose pale and violet flower 

Found in each cleft a narrow bower; 

Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, 

Emblems of punishment and pride, 

Grouped their dark hues with every stain 220 

The weather-beaten crags retain. 

With boughs that quaked at every breath; 

Gray birch and aspen wept beneath; 

Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 

Cast anchor in the rifted rock; 225 

And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 

His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, 

Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high, 

His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. 

Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, 230 

Where glistening streamers waved and danced, 

The wanderer's eye could barely view 

The summer heaven's delicious blue; 

So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 

The scenery of a fairy dream. 235 

XIII 

Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep 
A narrow inlet, still and deep, 
Affording scarce such breadth of brim 
As served the wild duck's brood to swim. 



44 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Lost for a space, through thickets veering, 240 

But broader when again appearing, 

Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 

Could on the dark-blue mirror trace; 

And farther as the Hunter strayed, 

Still broader sweep its channels made. 245 

The shaggy mounds no longer stood, 

Emerging from entangled wood, 

But, wave-encircled, seemed to float, 

Like castle girdled with its moat; 

Yet broader floods extending still 250 

Divide them from their parent hill, 

Till each, retiring, claims to be 

An islet in an inland sea. 

XIV 

And now, to issue from the glen ; 

No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, 255 

Unless he climb with footing nice 

A far-projecting precipice. 

The broom's tough roots his ladder made, 

The hazel saplings lent their aid; 

And thus an airy point he won, 260 

Where, gleaming with the setting sun, 

One burnished sheet of living gold, . 

Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled, 

In all her length far winding lay, 

With promontory, creek, and bay, 265 

And islands that, empurpled bright, 

Floated amid the livelier light, 

And mountains that like giants stand 



CANTO FIRST 45 

To sentinel enchanted land. 

High on the south, huge Benvenue 270 

Down to the lake in masses threw 

Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, 

The fragments of an earlier world; 

A wildering forest feathered o'er 

His ruined sides and summit hoar, 275 

While on the north, through middle air, 

Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. 

XV 

From the steep promontory gazed 

The stranger, raptured and amazed, 

And, 'What a scene were here/ he cried, 280 

* For princely pomp or churchman's pride ! 

On this bold brow, a lordly tower; 

In that soft vale, a lady's bower; 

On yonder meadow, far away, 

The turrets of a cloister gray; 285 

How blithely might the bugle-horn 

Chide on the lake the lingering morn! 

How sweet at eve the lover's lute 

Chime when the groves were still and mute! 

And when the midnight moon should lave 290 

Her forehead in the silver wave, 

How solemn on the ear would comer 

The holy matins' distant hum, 

While the deep peal's commanding tone 

Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 295 

A sainted hermit from his cell, 

To drop a bead with every knell! 



46 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, 

Should each bewildered stranger call 

To friendly feast and lighted hall. 300 

XVI 

' Blithe were it then to wander here! 

But now — beshrew yon nimble deer — 

Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, 

The copse must give my evening fare; 

Some mossy bank my couch must be, 305 

Some rustling oak my canopy. 

Yet pass we that; the war and chase 

Give little choice of resting-place; — 

A summer night in greenwood spent 

Were but to-morrow's merriment: 310 

But hosts may in these wilds abound, 

Such as are better missed than found; 

To meet with Highland plunderers here 

Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — 

I am alone; — my bugle-strain 315 

May call some straggler of the train; 

Or, fall the worst that may betide, 

Ere now this falchion has been tried/ 

XVII 

But scarce again his horn he wound, 

When lo! forth starting at the sound, 320 

From underneath an aged oak 

That slanted from the islet rock, 

A damsel guider of its way, 

A little skiff shot to the bay, 



CANTO FIRST 47 

That round the promontory steep 325 

Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 

Eddying, in almost viewless wave, 

The weeping willow twig to lave, 

And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, 

The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 330 

The boat had touched this silver strand 

Just as the Hunter left his stand, 

And stood concealed amid the brake, 

To view this Lady of the Lake. 

The maiden paused, as if again 335 

She thought to catch the distant strain. 

With head upraised, and look intent, 

And eye and ear attentive bent, 

And locks flung back, and lips apart, 

Like monument of Grecian art, 340 

In listening mood, she seemed to stand, 

The guardian Naiad of the strand. 

XVIII 

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 

A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 

Of finer form or lovelier face! 345 

What though the sun, with ardent frown, 

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — 

The sportive toil, which, short and light, 

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright, 

Served too in hastier swell to show 350 

Short glimpses of a breast of snow: 

What though no rule of courtly grace 

To measured mood had trained her pace, — 



48 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

A foot more light, a step more true, 

Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew; 355 

E'en the slight harebell raised its head, 

Elastic from her airy tread: 

What though upon her speech there hung 

The accents of the mountain tongue, — 

Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, 360 

The listener held his breath to hear ! 

XIX 

A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid; 

Her satin snood, her silken plaid, 

Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. 

And seldom was a snood amid 365 

Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, 

Whose glossy black to shame might bring 

The plumage of the raven's wing; 

And seldom o'er a breast so fair 

Mantled a plaid with modest care, 370 

And never brooch the folds combined 

Above a heart more good and kind. 

Her kindness and her worth to spy, 

You need but gaze on Ellen's eye; 

Not Katrine in her mirror blue 375 

Gives back the shaggy banks more true, 

Than every free-born glance confessed 

The guileless movements of her breast; 

Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 

Or woe or pity claimed a sigh, 380 

Or filial love was glowing there, 

Or meek devotion poured a prayer, 



CANTO FIRST 49 

Or tale of injury called forth 

The indignant spirit of the North. 

One only passion unrevealed 385 

With maiden pride the maid concealed, 

Yet not less purely felt the flame; — 

O, need I tell that passion's name? 

XX 

Impatient of the silent horn, 

Now on the gale her voice was borne : — 390 

' Father !' she cried; the rocks around 

Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 

Awhile she paused, no answer came; 

i Malcolm, was thine the blast? ' the name 

Less resolutely uttered fell, 395 

The echoes could not catch the swell. 

'A stranger 1/ the Huntsman said, 

Advancing from the hazel shade. 

The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar 

Pushed her light shallop from the shore, 400 

And when a space was gained between, 

Closer she drew her bosom's screen; — 

So forth the startled swan would swing, 

So turn to prune his ruffled wing. 

Then safe, though fluttered and amazed, 405 

She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 

Not his the form, nor his the eye, 

That youthful maidens wont to fly. 



50 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

XXI 

On his bold visage middle age 

Had slightly pressed its signet sage, 410 

Yet had not quenched the open truth 

And fiery vehemence of youth; 

Forward and frolic glee was there, 

The will to do, the soul to dare, 

The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 415 

Of hasty love or headlong ire. 

His limbs were cast in manly mould 

For hardy sports or contest bold; 

And though in peaceful garb arrayed, 

And weaponless except his blade, 420 

His stately mien as well implied 

A high-born heart, a martial pride, 

As if a baron's crest he wore, 

And sheathed in armor trode the shore. 

Slighting the petty need he showed, 425 

He told of his benighted road; 

His ready speech flowed fair and free, 

In phrase of gentlest courtesy, 

Yet seemed that tone and gesture bland 

Less used to sue than to command. 430 

XXII 

Awhile the maid the stranger eyed, 

And, reassured, at length replied, 

That Highland halls were open still 

To wildered wanderers of the hill. 

1 Nor think you unexpected come 435 

To yon lone isle, our desert home; 



CANTO FIRST 51 

Before the heath had lost the dew, 

This morn, a couch was pulled for you; 

On yonder mountain's purple head 

Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled, 440 

And our broad nets have swept the mere, 

To furnish forth your evening cheer/ — 

'Now, by the rood, my lovely maid, 

Your courtesy has erred/ he said; 

'No right have I to claim, misplaced, 445 

The welcome of expected guest. 

A wanderer, here by fortune tost, 

My way, my friends, my courser lost, 

I ne'er before, believe me, fair, 

Have ever drawn your mountain air, 450 

Till on this lake's romantic strand 

I found a fay in fairy land ! ' 

XXIII 

'I well believe/ the maid replied, 

As her light skiff approached the side, — 

'I well believe, that ne'er before 455 

Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore; 

But yet, as far as yesternight, 

Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — 

A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent 

Was on the visioned future bent. 460 

He saw your steed, a dappled gray, 

Lie dead beneath the birchen way; 

Painted exact your form and mien, 

Your hunting-suit of Lincoln green, 

That tasselled horn so gayly gilt, 465 



52 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, 

That cap with heron plumage trim, 

And yon two hounds so dark and grim. 

He bade that all should ready be 

To grace a guest of fair degree; 470 

But light I held his prophecy, 

And deemed it was my father's horn 

Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne.' 

XXIV 

The stranger smiled : — ' Since to your home 

A destined errant-knight I come, 475 

Announced by prophet sooth and old, 

Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold, 

I '11 lightly front each high emprise 

For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 

Permit me first the task to guide 480 

Your fairy frigate o'er the tide.' 

The maid, with smile suppressed and sly, 

The toil unwonted saw him try; 

For seldom, sure, if e'er before, 

His noble hand had grasped an oar: 485 

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, 

And o'er the lake the shallop flew; 

With heads erect and whimpering cry, 

The hounds behind their passage ply. 

Nor frequent does the bright oar break 490 

The darkening mirror of the lake, 

Until the rocky isle they reach, 

And moor their shallop on the beach. 



CANTO FIRST 53 

XXV 

The stranger viewed the shore around; 

'T was all so close with copsewood bound, 495 

Nor track nor pathway might declare 

That human foot frequented there, 

Until the mountain maiden showed 

A clambering unsuspected road, 

That winded through the tangled screen, 500 

And opened on a narrow green, 

Where weeping birch and willow round 

With their long fibres swept the ground. 

Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, 

Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 505 

XXVI 

It was a lodge of ample size, 

But strange of structure and device; 

Of such materials as around 

The workman's hand had readiest found. 

Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 510 

And by the hatchet rudely squared, 

To give the walls their destined height, 

The sturdy oak and ash unite; 

While moss and clay and leaves combined 

To fence each crevice from .the wind. 515 

The lighter pine-trees overhead 

Their slender length for rafters spread, 

And withered heath and rushes dry 

Supplied a russet canopy. 

Due westward, fronting to the green, 520 

A rural portico was seen, 



54 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Aloft on native pillars borne, 

Of mountain fir with bark unshorn, 

Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 

The ivy and Idsean vine, 525 

The clematis, the favored flower 

Which boasts the name of virgin-bower, 

And every hardy plant could bear 

Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. 

An instant in this porch she stayed, 530 

And gayly to the stranger said: 

' On heaven and on thy lady call, 

And enter the enchanted hall!' 

XXVII 

1 My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, 

My gentle guide, in following thee ! ' 535 

He crossed the threshold, — and a clang 

Of angry steel that instant rang. 

To his bold brow his spirit rushed, 

But soon for vain alarm he blushed, 

When on the floor he saw displayed, 540 

Cause of the din, a naked blade 

Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung 

Upon a stag's huge antlers swung; 

For all around, the walls to grace, 

Hung trophies of the fight or chase: 545 

A target there, a bugle here, 

A battle-axe, a hunting spear, 

And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, 

With the tusked trophies of the boar. 

Here grins the wolf as when he died, 550 



CANTO FIRST 55 

And there the wild-cat's brindled hide 

The frontlet of the elk adorns, 

Or mantles o'er the bison's horns; 

Pennons and flags defaced and stained, 

That blackening streaks of blood retained, 555 

And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 

With otter's fur and seal's unite, 

In rude and uncouth tapestry all, 

To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 

XXVIII 

The wondering stranger round him gazed, 560 

And next the fallen weapon raised : — 

Few were the arms whose sinewy strength 

Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 

And as the brand he poised and swayed, 

'I never knew but one,' he said, 565 

' Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield 

A blade like this in battle-field.' 

She sighed, then smiled and took the word: 

'You see the guardian champion's sword; 

As light it trembles in his hand 570 

As in my grasp a hazel wand : 

My sire's tall form might grace the part 

Of Ferragus or Ascabart, 

But in the absent giant's hold 

Are women now, and menials old.' 575 

XXIX 

The mistress of the mansion came, 
Mature of age, a graceful dame, 



56 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Whose easy step and stately port 

Had well become a princely court, 

To whom, though more than kindred knew, 580 

Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 

Meet welcome to her guest she made, 

And every courteous rite was paid 

That hospitality could claim, 

Though all unasked his birth and name. 585 

Such then the reverence to a guest, 

That fellest foe might join the feast, 

And from his deadliest foeman's door 

Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. 

At length his rank the stranger names, 590 

'The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz- James; 

Lord of a barren heritage, 

Which his brave sires, from age to age, 

By their good swords had held with toil; 

His sire had fallen in such turmoil, 595 

And he, God wot, was forced to stand 

Oft for his right with blade in hand. 

This morning with Lord Moray's train 

He chased a stalwart stag in vain, 

Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer, 600 

Lost his good steed, and wandered here.' 

XXX 

Fain would the Knight in turn require 

The name and state of Ellen's sire. 

Well showed the elder lady's mien 

That courts and cities she had seen; 605 

Ellen, though more her looks displayed 



CANTO FIRST 57 

The simple grace of sylvan maid, 

In speech and gesture, form and face, 

Showed she was come of gentle race. 

'T were strange in ruder rank to find 610 

Such looks, such manners, and such mind. 

Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, 

Dame Margaret heard with silence grave; 

Or Ellen, innocently gay, 

Turned all inquiry light away: — 615 

' Weird women we! by dale and down 

We dwell, afar from tower and town. 

We stem the flood, we ride the blast, 

On wandering knights our spells we cast; 

While viewless minstrels touch the string, 620 

'T is thus our charmed rhymes we sing.' 

She sung, and still a harp unseen 

Filled up the symphony between. 

XXXI 

Song 

1 Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; 625 
Dream of battled fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall, 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
Fairy strains of music fall, 630 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, 
Dream of fighting fields no more; 



58 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 

Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 635 

1 No rude sound shall reach thine ear, 

Armor's clang or war-steed champing, 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 640 

At the daybreak from the fallow, 
And the bittern sound his drum, 

Booming from the sedgy shallow, 
Ruder sounds shall none be near, 
Guards nor warders challenge here, 645 

Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing, 
Shouting clans of squadrons stamping.' 

XXXII 

She paused, — then, blushing, led the lay, 

To grace the stranger of the day. 

Her mellow notes awhile prolong 650 

The cadence of the flowing song, 

Till to her lips in measured frame 

The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 

SONG CONTINUED 

'Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; 

While our slumbrous spells assail ye, 655 

Dream not, with the rising sun, 

Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
Sleep! the deer is in his den; 

Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; 



CANTO FIRST 59 

Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen 660 

How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done; 
Think not of the rising sun, 
For at dawning to assail ye 
Here no bugles sound reveille/ 665 

XXXIII 

The hall was cleared, — the stranger's bed 
Was there of mountain heather spread, 
Where oft a hundred guests had lain, 
And dreamed their forest sports again. 
But vainly did the heath-flower shed 670 

Its moorland fragrance round his head; 
Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest 
The fever of his troubled breast. 
In broken dreams the image rose 
Of varied perils, pains, and woes: 675 

His steed now flounders in the brake, 
Now sinks his barge upon the lake; 
* Now leader of a broken host, 
His standard falls, his honor's lost. 
Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 680 
Chase that worst phantom' of the night! — 
Again returned the scenes of youth, 
Of confident, undoubting truth; 
Again his soul he interchanged 

With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 685 
They come, in dim procession led, 
The cold, the faithless, and the dead; 
As warm each hand, each brow as gay, 



60 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

As if they parted yesterday. 

And doubt distracts him at the view, — 

O were his senses false or true? 690 

Dreamed he of death or broken vow, 

Or is it all a vision now? 

XXXIV 

At length, with Ellen in a grove 

He seemed to walk and speak of love; 695 

She listened with a blush and sigh, 

His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 

He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 

And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : 

The phantom's sex was changed and gone, 700 

Upon its head a helmet shone; 

Slowly enlarged to giant size, 

With darkened cheek and threatening eyes, 

The grisly visage, stern and hoar, 

To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 705 

He woke, and, panting with affright, 

Recalled the vision of the night. 

The hearth's decaying brands were red, 

And deep and dusky lustre shed, 

Half showing, half concealing, all 710 

The uncouth trophies of the hall. 

Mid those the stranger fixed his eye 

Where that huge falchion hung on high, 

And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng, 

Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, 715 

Until, the giddy whirl to cure, 

He rose and sought the moonshine pure. 



CANTO FIRST 61 

XXXV 

The wild rose, eglantine, and broom 
Wasted around their rich perfume; 
The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm; 720 

The aspen slept beneath the calm; 
The silver light, with quivering glance, 
Played on the water's still expanse, — 
Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 
Could rage beneath the sober ray! 725 

He felt its calm, that warrior guest, 
While thus he communed with his breast : — 
'Why is it, at each turn I trace 
Some memory of that exiled race? 
Can I not mountain maiden spy, 730 

But she must bear the Douglas eye? 
Can I not view a Highland brand, 
But it must match the Douglas hand? 
Can I not frame a fevered dream, 
But still the Douglas is the theme? 735 

I '11 dream no more, - — by manly mind 
Not even in sleep is will resigned. 
My midnight orisons said o'er, 
I' 11 turn to rest, and dream no more.' 
His midnight orisons he told, 740 

A prayer with every bead of gold, 
Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, 
And sunk in undisturbed repose, 
Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, 
And morning dawned on Benvenue, 745 



CANTO SECOND 



The Island 

I 

At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 

'T is morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay, 
All Nature's children feel the matin spring 

Of life reviving, with reviving day; 

And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 5 
Wafting the stranger on his way again, 

Morn's genial influence rqused a minstrel gray, 
And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, 
Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired 
Allan-bane! 

II 

SONG 

'Not faster yonder rowers' might 10 

Flings from their oars the spray, 
Not faster yonder rippling bright, 
That tracks the shallop's course in light, 

Melts in the lake away, 
Than men from memory erase 15 

The benefits of former days; 
Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while, 
Nor think again of the lonely isle. 

62 



CANTO SECOND 63 

'High place to thee in royal courts. 

High place in battled line, 20 

Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport! 
Where beauty sees the brave resort, 

The honored meed be thine! 
True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, 
Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, 25 

And lost in love's and friendship's smile 
Be memory of the lonely isle! 

Ill 

SONG CONTINUED 

'But if beneath yon southern sky 

A plaided stranger roam, 
Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, 30 

And sunken cheek and heavy eye, 

Pine for his Highland home; 
Then, warrior, then be thine to show 
The care that soothes a wanderer's woe; 
Remember then thy hap erewhile, 35 

A stranger in the lonely isle. 

'Or if on life's uncertain main 

Mishap shall mar thy sail; 
If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, 
Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 40 

Beneath the fickle gale; 
Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, 
On thankless courts, or friends estranged, 
But come where kindred worth shall smile, 
To greet thee in the lonely isle.' 45 



64 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

IV 

As died the sounds upon the tide, 

The shallop reached the mainland side, 

And ere his onward way he took, 

The stranger cast a lingering look, 

Where easily his eye might reach 50 

The Harper on the islet beach, 

Reclined against a blighted tree, 

As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 

To minstrel meditation given, 

His reverend brow was raised to heaven, 55 

As from the rising sun to claim 

A sparkle of inspiring flame. 

His hand, reclined upon the wire, 

Seemed watching the awakening fire; 

So still he sat as those who wait 60 

Till judgment speak the doom of fate; 

So still, as if no breeze might dare 

To lift one lock of hoary hair; 

So still, as life itself were fled 

In the last sound his harp had sped. 65 

V 

Upon a rock with lichens wild, 

Beside him Ellen sat and smiled. — 

Smiled she to see the stately drake 

Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, 

While her vexed spaniel from the beach 70 

Bayed at the prize beyond his reach? 

Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows, 

Why deepened on her cheek the rose? — 



CANTO SECOND 65 

Forgive, forgive, Fidelity! 

Perchance the maiden smiled to see 75 

Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, 

And stop and turn to wave anew; 

And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 

Condemn the heroine of my lyre, 

Show me the fair would scorn to spy 80 

And prize such conquest of her eye! 

VI 

While yet he loitered on the spot, 

It seemed as Ellen marked him not; 

But when he turned him to the glade, 

One courteous parting sign she made; 85 

And after, oft the knight would say, 

That not when prize of festal day 

Was dealt him by the brightest fair 

Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, 

So highly did his bosom swell 90 

As at that simple mute farewell. 

Now with a trusty mountain-guide, 

And his dark stag-hounds by his side, 

He parts, — the maid, unconscious still, 

Watched him wind slowly round the hill; 95 

But when his stately form was hid, 

The guardian in her bosom chid, — 

'Thy Malcolm! vain and selfish maid!' 

'T was thus upbraiding conscience said, — 

'Not so had Malcolm idly hung 100 

On the smooth phrase of Southern tongue; 

Not so had Malcolm strained his eye 



66 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Another step than thine to spy.' — 

'Wake, Allan-bane/ aloud she cried 

To the old minstrel by her side, — 105 

' Arouse thee from thy moody dream! 

I '11 give thy harp heroic theme, 

And warm thee with a noble name : 

Pour forth the glory of the Graeme ! ' 

Scarce from her lip the word had rushed, 110 

When deep the conscious maiden blushed; 

For of his clan, in hall and bower, 

Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower. 

VII 

The minstrel waked his harp, — three times 

Arose the well-known martial chimes, 115 

And thrice their high heroic pride 

In melancholy murmurs died. 

* Vainly thou bidst, noble maid/ 

Clasping his withered hands, he said, 

' Vainly thou bidst me wake the strain, 120 

Though all unwont to bid in vain. 

Alas! than mine a mightier hand 

Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned! 

I touch the chords of joy, but low 

And mournful answer notes of woe; 125 

And the proud march which victors tread 

Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 

0, well for me, if mine alone 

That dirge's deep prophetic tone! 

If, as my tuneful fathers said, 130 

This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed, 



CANTO SECOND ' 67 

Can thus its master's fate foretell, 
Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! 

VIII 

'But ah! dear lady, thus it sighed, 

The eve thy sainted mother died; 135 

And such the sounds which, while I strove 

To wake a lay of war or love, 

Came marring all the festal mirth, 

Appalling me who gave them birth, 

And, disobedient to my call, 140 

Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall, 

Ere Douglases, to ruin driven, 

Were exiled from their native heaven. — 

O! if yet worse mishap and woe 

My master's house must undergo, 145 

Or aught but weal to Ellen fair 

Brood in these accents of despair, 

No future bard, sad Harp! shall fling 

Triumph or rapture from thy string; 

One short, one final strain shall flow, 150 

Fraught with unutterable woe, 

Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, 

Thy master cast him down and die ! ' 

IX 

Soothing she answered him : ' Assuage, 

Mine honored friend, the fears of age; 155 

All melodies to thee are known 

That harp has rung or pipe has blown^ 

In Lowland vale or Highland glen. 



68 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, then, 

At times unbidden notes should rise, 160 

Confusedly bound in memory's ties, 

Entangling, as they rush along, 

The war-march with the funeral song? — 

Small ground is now for boding fear; 

Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 165 

My sire, in native virtue great, 

Resigning lordship, lands, and state, 

Not then to fortune more resigned 

Than yonder oak might give the wind; 

The graceful foliage storms may reave, 170 

The noble stem they cannot grieve. 

For me ' — she stooped, and, looking round, 

Plucked a blue harebell from the ground, — 

'For me, whose memory scarce conveys 

An image of more splendid days, 175 

This little flower that loves the lea 

May well my simple emblem be ; 

It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose 

That in the King's own garden grows; 

And when I place it in my hair, 180 

Allan, a bard is bound to swear 

He ne'er saw coronet so fair.' 

Then playfully the chaplet wild 

She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. 

X 

Her smile, her speech, with winning sway, 185 

Wiled the old Harper's mood away. 
With such a look as hermits throw, 



CANTO SECOND 69 

When angels stoop to soothe their woe, 

He gazed, till fond regret and pride 

Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied: 190 

1 Loveliest and best! thou little know'st 

The rank, the honors, thou has lost! 

O, might I live to see thee grace, 

In Scotland's court, thy birthright place, 

To see my favorite's step advance 195 

The lightest in the courtly dance, 

The cause of every gallant's sigh, 

And leading star of every eye, 

And theme of every minstrel's art, 

The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!' 200 

XI 

'Fair dreams are these,' the maiden cried, — 

Light was her accent, yet she sighed, — 

'Yet is this mossy rock to me 

Worth splendid chair and canopy; 

Nor would my footstep spring more gay 205 

In courtly dance than blithe strathspey, 

Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 

To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 

And then for suitors proud and high, 

To bend before my conquering eye, — 210 

Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say, 

That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 

The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride, 

The terror of Loch Lomond's side, 

Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 215 

A Lennox foray — for a day.' — 



70 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

XII 

The ancient bard her glee repressed: 

'111 hast thou chosen theme for jest! 

For who, through all this western wild, 

Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled? 220 

In Holy-Rood a knight he slew; 

I saw, when back the dirk he drew, 

Courtiers give place before the stride 

Of the undaunted homicide; 

And since, though outlawed, hath his hand 225 

Full sternly kept his mountain land. 

Who else dared give — ah ! woe the day, 

That I such hated truth should say! — 

The Douglas, like a stricken deer, 

Disowned by every noble peer, 230 

Even the rude refuge we have here? 

Alas, this wdld marauding Chief 

Alone might hazard our relief, 

And now thy maiden charms expand, 

Looks for his guerdon in thy hand; 235 

Full soon may dispensation sought, 

To back his suit, from Rome be brought. 

Then, though an exile on the hill, 

Thy father, as the Douglas, still 

Be held in reverence and fear; 240 

And though to Roderick thou 'rt so dear 

That thou mightst guide with silken thread, 

Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread, 

Yet, loved maid, thy mirth refrain! 

Thy hand is on a lion's mane/ — 245 



CANTO SECOND 71 

XIII 

1 Minstrel/ the maid replied, and high 

Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 

'My debts to Roderick's house I know: 

All that a mother could bestow 

To Lady Margaret's care I owe, 250 

Since first an orphan in the wild 

She sorrowed o'er her sister's child; 

To her brave chieftain son, from ire 

Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, 

A deeper, holier debt is owed; 255 

And, could I pay it with my blood, 

Allan! Sir Roderick should command 

My blood, my life, — but not my hand. 

Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 

A votaress in Maronnan's cell; 260 

Rather through realms beyond the sea, 

Seeking the world's cold charity, 

Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, 

And ne'er the name of Douglas heard, 

An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 265 

Than wed the man she cannot love. 

XIV 

'Thou shak'st, good friend, thy tresses gray, — 

That pleading look, what can it say 

But what I own? — I grant him brave, 

But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave; 270 

And generous, — save vindictive mood 

Or jealous transport chafe his blood: 

I grant him true to friendly band, 



72 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

As his claymore is to his hand; 

But ! that very blade of steel 275 

More mercy for a foe would feel : 

I grant him liberal, to fling 

Among his clan the wealth they bring, 

When back by lake and glen they wind, 

And in the Lowland leave behind, 280 

Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, 

A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 

The hand that for my father fought 

I honor, as his daughter ought; 

But can I clasp it reeking red 285 

From peasants slaughtered in their shed? 

No ! wildly while his virtues gleam, 

They make his passions darker seem, 

And flash along his spirit high, 

Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 290 

While yet a child, — and children know, 

Instinctive taught, the friend and foe, — 

I shuddered at his brow of gloom, 

His shadowy plaid and sable plume; 

A maiden grown, I ill could bear 295 

His haughty mien and lordly air: 

But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, 

In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 

I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er 

A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 300 

To change such odious theme were best, — 

What think'st thou of our stranger guest?' — 



CANTO SECOND 73 

XV 

' What think I of him? — woe the while 

That brought such wanderer to our isle! 

Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 305 

For Tine-man forged by fairy lore, 

What time he leagued, no longer foes, 

His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, 

Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow 

The footsteps of a secret foe. 310 

If courtly spy hath harbored here, 

What may we for the Douglas fear? 

What of this island, deemed of old 

Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold? 

If neither spy nor foe, I pray 315 

What yet may jealous Roderick say? — 

Nay, wave not thy disdainful head! 

Bethink thee of the discord dread 

That kindled when at Beltane game 

Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme; 320 

Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, 

Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud: 

Beware! — But hark! what songs are these? 

My dull ears catch no faltering breeze, 

No weeping birch nor aspens wake, 325 

Nor breath is dimpling in the lake; 

Still is the canna's hoary beard, 

Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 

And hark again! some pipe of war 

Sends the bold pibroch from afar.' 330 



74 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

XVI 

Far up the lengthened lake were spied 

Four darkening specks upon the tide, 

That, slow enlarging on the view, 

Four manned and masted barges grew, 

And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 335 

Steered full upon the lone isle; 

The point of Brianchoil they passed, 

And, to the windward as they cast, 

Against the sun they gave to shine 

The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine. 340 

Nearer and nearer as they bear, 

Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 

Now might you see the tartans brave, 

And plaids and plumage dance and wave : 

Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 345 

As his tough oar the rower plies; 

See, flashing at each sturdy stroke, 

The wave ascending into smoke; 

See the proud pipers on the bow, 

And mark the gaudy streamers flow 350 

From their loud chanters down, and sweep 

The furrowed bosom of the deep, 

As, rushing through the lake amain, 

They plied the ancient Highland strain. 

XVII 

Ever, as on they bore, more loud 355 

And louder rung the pibroch proud. 
At first the sounds, by distance tame, 
Mellowed along the waters came, 



CANTO SECOND 75 

And, lingering long by cape and bay, 

Wailed every harsher note away, 360 

Then bursting bolder on the ear, 

The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear, 

Those thrilling sounds that call the might 

Of old Clan- Alpine to the fight. 

Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 365 

The mustering hundreds shake the glen, 

And hurrying at the signal dread, 

The battered earth returns their tread. 

Then prelude light, of livelier tone, 

Expressed their merry marching on, 370 

Ere peal of closing battle rose, 

With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows; 

And mimic din of stroke and ward, 

As broadsword upon target jarred; 

And groaning pause, ere yet again, 375 

Condensed, the battle yelled amain: 

The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 

Retreat borne headlong into rout, 

And bursts of triumph, to declare 

Clan-Alpine's conquest — all were there. 380 

Nor ended thus the strain, but slow 

Sunk in a moan prolonged and low, 

And changed the conquering clarion swell 

For wild lament o'er those that fell. 

XVIII 

The war-pipes ceased, but lake and hill 385 

Were busy with their echoes still; 
And, when they slept, a vocal strain 



76 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, 

While loud a hundred clansmen raise 

Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 390 

Each boatman, bending to his oar, 

With measured sweep the burden bore, 

In such wild cadence as the breeze 

Makes through December's leafless trees. 

The chorus first could Allan know, 395 

1 Roderick Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! ' 

And near, and nearer as they rowed, 

Distinct the martial ditty flowed. 

XIX 

BOAT SONG 

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances! 

Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine! 400 

Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! 

Heaven send it happy dew, 

Earth lend it sap anew, 
Gayly to bourgeon and broadly to grow, 405 

While every Highland glen 

Sends our shout back again, 
'Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroeP 

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, 

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; 410 

When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the 
mountain, 
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 



CANTO SECOND 77 

Moored in the rifted rock, 

Proof to the tempest's shock, 
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; 415 

Menteith and Breadalbane, then, 

Echo his praise again, 
'Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!' 

XX 

Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, 

And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied; 420 
Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, 
And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. 

Widow and Saxon maid 

Long shall lament our raid, 
Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe; 425 

Lennox and Leven-glen 

Shake when they hear again, 
1 Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! ' 

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands! 

Stretch to your oars for the ever-green Pine! 430 

O that the rosebud that graces yon islands 

Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine! 

O that some seedling gem, 

Worthy such noble stem, 
Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow! 435 

Loud should Clan- Alpine then 

Ring from her deepmost glen, 
1 Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!' 



78 THE LADY OF THE LAKE ' 

XXI 

With all her joyful female band 

Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 440 

Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, 

And high their snowy arms they threw, 

As echoing back with shrill acclaim, 

And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name; 

While, prompt to please, with mother's art, 445 

The darling passion of his heart, 

The Dame called Ellen to the strand, 

To greet her kinsman ere he land: 

i Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, 

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow?' 450 

Reluctantly and slow, the maid 

The unwelcome summoning obeyed, 

And when a distant bugle rung, 

In the mid-path aside she sprung : — 

'List, Allan-bane! From mainland cast 455 

I hear my father's signal blast. 

Be ours,' she cried, 'the skiff to guide, 

And waft him from the mountain-side.' 

Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright, 

She darted to her shallop light, 460 

And, eagerly while Roderick scanned, 

For her dear form, his mother's band, 

The islet far behind her lay, 

And she had landed in the bay. 

XXII 

Some feelings are to mortals given 465 

With less of earth in them than heaven; 



CANTO SECOND 79 

And if there be a human tear 

From passion 's dross refined and clear, 

A tear so limpid and so meek 

It would not stain an angel's cheek, 470 

'T is that which pious fathers shed 

Upon a duteous daughter's head! 

And as the Douglas to his breast 

His darling Ellen closely pressed, 

Such holy drops her tresses steeped, 475 

Though 't was an hero's eye that weeped. 

Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 

Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 

Marked she that fear — affection's proof — 

Still held a graceful youth aloof; 480 

No! not till Douglas named his name, 

Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. 

XXIII 

Allan, with wistful look the while, 

Marked Roderick landing on the isle; 

His master piteously he eyed, 485 

Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, 

Then dashed with hasty hand away 

From his dimmed eye the gathering spray; 

And Douglas, as his hand he laid 

On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said: 490 

1 Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 

In my poor follower's glistening eye? 

I '11 tell thee: — he recalls the day 

When in my praise he led the lay 

O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, 495 



80 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

While many a minstrel answered loud, 

When Percy's Norman pennon, won 

In bloody field, before me shone, 

And twice ten knights, the least a name 

As mighty as yon Chief may claim, 500 

Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 

Was I of all that marshalled crowd, 

Though the waned crescent owned my might, 

And in my train trooped lord and knight, 505 

Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays, 

And BothwelPs bards flung back my praise, 

As when this old man's silent tear, 

And this poor maid's affection dear, 

A welcome give more kind and true 510 

Than aught my better fortunes knew. 

Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, — 

O, it out-beggars all I lost!' 

XXIV 

Delightful praise ! — like summer rose, 

That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 515 

The bashful maiden's cheek appeared, 

For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 

The flush of shame-faced joy to hide, 

The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide; 

The loved caresses of the maid 520 

The dogs with crouch and whimper paid; 

And, at her whistle, on her hand 

The falcon took his favorite stand, 

Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye, 



CANTO SECOXD 81 

Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 525 

And, trust, while in such guise she stood, 

Like fabled Goddess of the wood, 

That if a father's partial thought 

O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught, 

Well might the lover's judgment fail 530 

To balance with a juster scale; 

For with each secret glance he stole, 

The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 

XXV 

Of stature fair, and slender frame, 

But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 535 

The belted plaid and tartan hose 

Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose; 

His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, 

Curled closely round his bonnet blue. 

Trained to the chase, his eagle eye 540 

The ptarmigan in snow could spy; 

Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, 

He knew, through Lennox and Menteith; 

Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe 

When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 545 

And scarce that doe, though winged with fear, 

Outstripped in speed the mountaineer : 

Right up Ben Lomond could he press, 

And not a sob his toil confess. 

His form accorded with a mind 550 

Lively and ardent, frank and kind; 

A blither heart, till Ellen came, 

Did never love nor sorrow tame; 



82 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

It danced as lightsome in his breast 

As played the feather on his crest. 555 

Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth, 

His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, 

And bards, who saw his features bold 

When kindled by the tales of old, 

Said, were that youth to manhood grown, 560 

Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 

Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, 

But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. 

XXVI 

Now back they wend their watery way, 

And, ' my sire ! ' did Ellen say, 565 

'Why urge thy chase so far astray? 

And why so late returned? And why' — 

The rest was in her speaking eye. 

' My child, the chase I follow far, 

'T is mimicry of noble war; 570 

And with that gallant pastime reft 

Were all of Douglas I have left. 

I met young Malcolm as I strayed 

Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade; 

Nor strayed I safe, for all around 575 

Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground. 

This youth, though still a royal ward, 

Risked life and land to be my guard, 

And through the passes of the wood 

Guided my steps, not unpursued; 580 

And Roderick shall his welcome make, 

Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 



CANTO SECOND 83 

Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen, 
Nor peril aught for me again.' 

XXVII 

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 585 

Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme, 

Yet, not in action, word, or eye, 

Failed aught in hospitality. 

In talk and sport they whiled away 

The morning of that summer day; 590 

But at high noon a courier light 

Held secret parley with the knight, 

Whose moody aspect soon declared 

That evil were the news he heard. 

Deep thought seemed toiling in his head; 595 

Yet was the evening banquet made 

Ere he assembled round the flame 

His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, 

And Ellen too; then cast around 

His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, 600 

As studying phrase that might avail 

Best to convey unpleasant tale. 

Long with his dagger's hilt he played, 

Then raised his haughty brow, and said: — 

XXVIII 

' Short be my speech; — nor time affords, 605 

Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 
Kinsman and father, — if such name 
Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim; 
Mine honored mother; — Ellen, — why, 



84 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

My cousin, turn away thine eye? — 610 

And Graeme, in whom I hope to know 

Full soon a noble friend or foe, 

When age shall give thee thy command, 

And leading in thy native land, — 

List all! — The King's vindictive pride 615 

Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, 

Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came 

To share their monarch's sylvan game, 

Themselves in bloody toils were snared, 

And when the banquet they prepared, 620 

And wide their loyal portals flung, 

O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 

Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, 

From Yarrow braes and banks of Tweed, 

Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, 625 

And from the silver Teviot's side; 

The dales, where martial clans did ride, 

Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 

This tyrant of the Scottish throne, 

So faithless and so ruthless known, 630 

Now hither comes; his end the same, 

The same pretext of sylvan game. 

What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye 

By fate of Border chivalry. 

Yet more; amid Glenfinlas' green, 635 

Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 

This by espial sure I know: 

Your counsel in the streight I show.' 



CANTO SECOND 85 

XXIX 

Ellen and Margaret fearfully 

Sought comfort in each other's eye, 640 

Then turned their ghastly look, each one, 

This to her sire, that to her son. 

The hasty color went and came 

In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme, 

But from his glance it well appeared 645 

'T was but for Ellen that he feared; 

While, sorrowful, but undismayed, 

The Douglas thus his counsel said: 

' Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, 

It may but thunder and pass o'er; 650 

Nor will I here remain an hour, 

To draw the lightning on thy bower; 

For well thou know'st, at this gray head 

The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 

For thee, who, at thy King's command, 655 

Canst aid him with a gallant band, 

Submission, homage, humbled pride, 

Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside. 

Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 

Ellen and I will seek apart 660 

The refuge of some forest cell, 

There, like the hunted quarry, dwell, 

Till on the mountain and the moor 

The stern pursuit be passed and o'er,' — 

XXX 

'No, by mine honor,' Roderick said, 665 

'So help me Heaven, and my good blade! 



86 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

No, never! Blasted be yon Pine, 

My father's ancient crest and mine, 

If from its shade in danger part 

The lineage of the Bleeding Heart! 670 

Hear my blunt speech : grant me this maid 

To wife, thy counsel to mine aid; 

To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, 

Will friends and allies flock enow; 

Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 675 

Will bind to us each Western Chief. 

When the loud pipes my bridal tell, 

The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 

The guards shall start in Stirling's porch; 

And when I light the nuptial torch, 680 

A thousand villages in flames 

Shall scare the slumbers of King James! — 

Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, 

And, mother, cease these signs, I pray; 

I meant not all my heat might say. — 685 

Small need of inroad or of fight, 

When the sage Douglas may unite 

Each mountain clan in friendly band, 

To guard the passes of their land, 

Till the foiled King from pathless glen 690 

Shall bootless turn him home again.' 

XXXI 

There are who have, at midnight hour, 

In slumber scaled a dizzy tower, 

And, on the verge that beetled o'er 

The ocean tide's incessant roar, 695 



CANTO SECOND 87 

Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream, 

Till wakened by the morning beam; 

When, dazzled by the eastern glow, 

Such startler cast his glance below, 

And saw unmeasured depth around, 700 

And heard unintermitted sound, 

And thought the battled fence so frail, 

It waved like cobweb in the gale; — 

Amid his senses' giddy wheel, 

Did he not desperate impulse feel, 705 

Headlong to plunge himself below, 

And meet the worst his fears foreshow? — 

Thus Ellen, dizzy and astound, 

As sudden ruin yawned around, 

By crossing terrors wildly tossed, 710 

Still for the Douglas fearing most, 

Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, 

To buy his safety with her hand. 

XXXII 

Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 

In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, 715 

And eager rose to speak, — but ere 

His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 

Had Douglas marked the hectic strife, 

Where death seemed combating with life; 

For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 720 

One instant rushed the throbbing blood, 

Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, 

Left its domain as wan as clay. 

' Roderick, enough! enough!' he cried, 



88 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

'My daughter cannot be thy bride; 725 

Not that the blush to wooer dear, 

Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 

It may not be, — forgive her, Chief, 

Nor hazard aught for our relief. 

Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 730 

Will level a rebellious spear. 

'T was I that taught his youthful hand 

To rein a steed and wield a brand; 

I see him yet, the princely boy! 

Not Ellen more my pride and joy; 735 

I love him still, despite my wrongs 

By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. 

O, seek the grace you well may find, 

Without a cause to mine combined !' 

XXXIII 

Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode; 740 

The waving of his tartans broad, 

And darkened brow, where wounded pride 

With ire and disappointment vied, 

Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light, 

Like the ill Demon of the night, 745 

Stooping his pinions ' shadowy sway 

Upon the nighted pilgrim's way; 

But, unrequited Love! thy dart 

Plunged deepest its envenomed smart, 

And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, 750 

At length the hand of Douglas wrung, 

While eyes that mocked at tears before 

With bitter drops were running o'er. 



CANTO SECOND 89 

The death-pangs of long-cherished hope 

Scarce in that ample breast had scope, 755 

But, struggling with his spirit proud, 

Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud, 

While every sob — so mute were all — 

Was heard distinctly through the hall. 

The son's despair, the mother's look, 760 

111 might the gentle Ellen brook; 

She rose, and to her side there came, 

To aid her parting steps the Graeme. 

XXXIV 

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — 

As flashes flame through sable smoke, 765 

Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, 

To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, 

So the deep anguish of despair 

Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 

With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 770 

On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid: 

'Back, beardless boy!' he sternly said, 

'Back, minion! holdst thou thus at naught 

The lesson I so lately taught? 

This roof, the Douglas, and that maid, 775 

Thank thou for punishment delayed.' 

Eager as greyhound on his game, 

Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. 

'Perish my name, if aught afford 

Its Chieftain safety save his sword ! ' 780 

Thus as they strove their desperate hand 

Griped to the dagger or the brand, 



90 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And death had been — but Douglas rose, 

And thrust between the struggling foes 

His giant strength : — ' Chieftains, forego ! 785 

I hold the first who strikes my foe. — 

Madmen, forbear your frantic jar! 

What! is the Douglas fallen so far, 

His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil 

Of such dishonorable broil?' 790 

Sullen and slowly they unclasp, 

As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, 

And each upon his rival glared, 

With foot advanced and blade half bared. 

XXXV 

Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 795 

Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, 

And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, 

As faltered through terrific dream, 

Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 

And veiled his wrath in scornful word: 800 

'Rest safe till morning; pity 'twere 

Such cheek should feel the midnight air! 

Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, 

Roderick will keep the lake and fell, 

Nor lackey with his freeborn clan 805 

The pageant pomp of earthly man. 

More would he of Clan- Alpine know, 

Thou canst our strength and passes show. — 

Malise, what ho!' — his henchman came: 

'Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme.' 810 

Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold: 

'Fear nothing for thy favorite hold; 



CANTO SECOND 91 

The spot an angel deigned to grace 

Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. 

Thy churlish courtesy for those 815 

Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 

As safe to me the mountain way 

At midnight as in blaze of day, 

Though with his boldest at his back 

Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. — 820 

Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay, 

Naught here of parting will I say. 

Earth does not hold a lonesome glen 

So secret but we meet again. — 

Chieftain! we too shall find an hour/ — 825 

He said, and left the sylvan bower. 

XXXVI 

Old Allan followed to the strand — 

Such was the Douglas's command — 

And anxious told, how, on the morn, 

The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, 830 

The Fiery Cross should circle o'er 

Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor. 

Much were the peril to the Graeme 

From those who to the signal came; 

Far up the lake J t were safest land, 835 

Himself would row him to the strand. 

He gave his counsel to the wind, 

While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, 

Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled, 

His ample plaid in tightened fold, 840 

And stripped his limbs to such array 

As best might suit the watery way, — 



92 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

XXXVII 

Then spoke abrupt: i Farewell to thee, 

Pattern of old fidelity ! ' 

The Minstrel's hand he kindly pressed, — 845 

'0, could I point a place of rest! 

My sovereign holds in ward my land, 

My uncle leads my vassal band; 

To tame his foes, his friends to aid, 

Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 850 

Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme 

Who loves the chieftain of his name, 

Not long shall honored Douglas dwell 

Like hunted stag in mountain cell; 

Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare, — 855 

I may not give the rest to air! 

Tell Roderick Dhu I owed him naught, 

Not the poor service of a boat, 

To waft me to yon mountain-side/ 

Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 860 

Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, 

And stoutly steered him from the shore; 

And Allan strained his anxious eye, 

Far mid the lake his form to spy, 

Darkening across each puny wave, 865 

To which the moon her silver gave. 

Fast as the cormorant could skim, 

The swimmer plied each active limb; 

Then landing in the moonlight dell, 

Loud shouted of his weal to tell. 870 

The Minstrel heard the far halloo, 

And joyful from the shore withdrew. 



CANTO THIRD 

The Gathering 



Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore, 
Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 

And told our marvelling boyhood legends store 
Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea, 
How are they blotted from the things that be ! 5 

How few, all weak and withered of their force, 
Wait on the verge of dark eternity, 

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, 

To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his ceaseless 
course. 

Yet live there still who can remember well, 10 

How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, 
Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, 

And solitary heath, the signal knew; 

And fast the faithful clan around him drew, 
What time the warning note was keenly wound, 15 

What time aloft their kindred banner flew, 
While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound, 
And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round. 

93 



94 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

II 

The Summer dawn's reflected hue 
To purple changed Loch Katrine blue; 20 

Mildly and soft the western breeze 
Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees, 
. And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, 
Trembled but dimpled not for joy: 
The mountain shadows on her breast 25 

Were neither broken nor at rest; 
In bright uncertainty they lie, 
Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 
The water-lily to the light 

Her chalice reared of silver bright; 30 

The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 
BegemmecUlvith dew-drops, led her fawn; 
The gray mist left the mountain-side, 
The torrent showed its glistening pride; 
Invisible in flecked sky 35 

The lark sent down her revelry; 
The blackbird and the speckled thrush 
Good-morrow gave from brake and bush; 
In answer cooed the cushat dove 
Her notes of peace and rest and love. 40 

III 

No thought of peace, no thought of rest, 

Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. 

With sheathed broadsword in his hand, 

Abrupt he paced the islet strand, 

And eyed the rising sun, and laid 45 

His hand on his impatient blade. 



CANTO THIRD 95 

Beneath a rock, his vassals' care 

Was prompt the ritual to prepare, 

With deep and deathful meaning fraught; 

For such Antiquity had taught 50 

Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 

The Cross of Fire should take its road. 

The shrinking band stood oft aghast 

At the impatient glance he cast; — 

Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 55 

As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, 

She spread her dark sails on the wind, 

And, high in middle heaven reclined, 

With her broad shadow on the lake, 

Silenced the warblers of the brake. 60 

IV 

A heap of withered boughs was piled, 

Of juniper and rowan wild, 

Mingled with shivers from the oak, 

Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. 

Brian the Hermit by it stood, 65 

Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 

His grizzled beard and matted hair 

Obscured a visage of despair; 

His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er, 

The scars of frantic penance bore. 70 

That monk, of savage form and face, 

The impending danger of his race 

Had drawn from deepest solitude, 

Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 

Not his the mien of Christian priest, 75 



96 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

But Druid's, from the grave released, 

Whose hardened heart and eye might brook 

On human sacrifice to look; 

And much, 't was said, of heathen lore 

Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. 80 

The hallowed creed gave only worse 

And deadlier emphasis of curse. 

No peasant sought that Hermit's prayer, 

His cave the pilgrim shunned with care; 

The eager huntsman knew his bound, 85 

And in mid chase called off his hound; 

Or if, in lonely glen or strath, 

The desert-dweller met his path, 

He prayed, and signed the cross between, 

While terror took devotion's mien. 90 

V 

Of Brian's birth strange tales w r ere told. 

His mother watched a midnight fold, 

Built deep within a dreary glen, 

Where scattered lay the bones of men 

In some forgotten battle slain, 95 

And bleached by drifting wind and rain. 

It might have tamed a warrior's heart 

To view such mockery of his art! 

The knot-grass fettered there the hand 

Which once could burst an iron band; 100 

Beneath the broad and ample bone, 

That bucklered heart to fear unknown, 

A feeble and a timorous guest, 

The fieldfare framed her lowly nest; 



CANTO THIRD 97 

There the slow blindworm left his slime 105 

On the fleet limbs that mocked at time; 

And there, too, lay the leader's skull, 

Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full, 

For heath-bell with her purple bloom 

Supplied the bonnet and the plume. 110 

All night, in this sad glen, the maid 

Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade: 

She said no shepherd sought her side, 

No hunter's hand her snood untied, 

Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 115 

The virgin snood did Alice wear; 

Gone was her maiden glee and sport, 

Her maiden girdle all too short, 

Nor sought she, from that fatal night, 

Or holy church or blessed rite, 120 

But locked her secret in her breast, 

And died in travail, unconfessed. 

VI 

Alone, among his young compeers, 

Was Brian from his infant years; 

A moody and heart-broken boy, 125 

Estranged from sympathy and joy, 

Bearing each taunt which careless tongue 

On his mysterious lineage flung. 

Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 

To wood and stream his hap to wail, 130 

Till, frantic, he as truth received 

What of his birth the crowd believed, 

And sought, in mist and meteor fire, 



98 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

To meet and know his Phantom Sire! 

In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, 135 

The cloister oped her pitying gate; 

In vain the learning of the age 

Unclasped the sable-lettered page; 

Even in its treasures he could find 

Food for the fever of his mind. 140 

Eager he read whatever tells 

Of magic, cabala, and spells, 

And every dark pursuit allied 

To curious and presumptuous pride; 

Till with fired brain and nerves overstrung, 145 

And heart with mystic horrors wrung, 

Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, 

And hid him from the haunts of men. 

VII 

The desert gave him visions wild, 

Such as might suit the spectre's child. 150 

Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, 

He watched the wheeling eddies boil, 

Till from their foam his dazzled eyes 

Beheld the river Demon rise : 

The mountain mist took form and limb 155 

Of noontide hag or goblin grim; 

The midnight wind came wild and dread, 

Swelled with the voices of the dead; 

Far on the future battle-heath 

His eye beheld the ranks of death: 160 

Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled, 

Shaped forth a disembodied world. 



CANTO THIRD 99 

One lingering sympathy of mind 

Still bound him to the mortal kind; 

The only parent he could claim 165 

Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. 

Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, 

The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream; 

Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast 

Of charging steeds, careering fast 170 

Along Benharrow's shingly side, 

Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride; 

The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 

All augured ill to Alpine's line. 

He girt his loins, and came to show 175 

The signals of impending woe, 

And now stood prompt to bless or ban, 

As bade the Chieftain of his clan. 

VIII 

'T was all prepared; — and from the rock 

A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 180 

Before the kindling pile was laid, 

And pierced by Roderick's ready blade. 

Patient the sickening victim eyed 

The life-blood ebb in crimson tide 

Down his clogged beard and shaggy limb, 185 

Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 

The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 

A slender crosslet framed with care, 

A cubit's length in measure due; 

The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 190 

Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 



100 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, 

And, answering Lomond's breezes deep, 

Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 

The Cross thus formed he held on high, 195 

With wasted hand and haggard eye, 

And strange and mingled feelings woke, 

While his anathema he spoke : — 

IX 

' Woe to the clansman who shall view 

This symbol of sepulchral yew, 200 

Forgetful that its branches grew 

Where weep the heavens their holiest dew 

On Alpine's dwelling low! 
Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, 
He ne'er shall mingle with their dust, 205 

But, from his sires and kindred thrust, 
Each clansman's execration just 

Shall doom him w r rath and woe.' 
He paused ; — the word the vassals took, 
With forward step and fiery look, 210 

On high their naked brands they shook, 
Their clattering targets wildly strook; 

And first in murmur low, 
Then, like the billow in his course, 
That far to seaward finds his source, 215 

And flings to shore his mustered force, 
Burst with loud roar their answer hoarse, 

'Woe to the traitor, woe!' 
Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew, 
The joyous wolf from covert drew, 220 



CANTO THIRD 101 

The exulting eagle screamed afar, — 
They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 

X 

The shout was hushed on lake and fell, 

The Monk resumed his muttered spell : 

Dismal and low its accents came, 225 

The while he scathed the Cross with flame; 

And the few words that reached the air, 

Although the holiest name was there, 

Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 

But when he shook above the crowd 230 

Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : — 

1 Woe to the wretch who fails to rear 

At this dread sign the ready spear! 

For, as the flames this symbol sear, 

His home, the refuge of his fear, 235 

A kindred fate shall know; 
Far o'er its roof the volumed flame 
Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 
While maids and matrons on his name 
Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 240 

And infamy and woe.' 
Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
As goshawk's whistle on the hill, 
Denouncing misery and ill, 
Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 245 

Of curses stammered slow; 
Answering with imprecation dread, 
' Sunk be his home in embers red ! 
And cursed be the meanest shed , 



102 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

That e'er shall hide the houseless head 250 

We doom to want and woe ! ' 
A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave! 
And the gray pass where birches wave 

On Beala-nam-bo. 255 

XI 

Then deeper paused the priest anew, 

And hard his laboring breath he drew, 

While, with set teeth and clenched hand, 

And eyes that glowed like fiery brand, 

He meditated curse more dread, 260 

And deadlier, on the clansman's head 

Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid, 

The signal saw and disobeyed. 

The crosslet's points of sparkling wood 

He quenched among the bubbling blood, 265 

And, as again the sign he reared, 

Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard: 

'When flits this Cross from man to man, 

Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, 

Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 270 

Palsied the foot that shuns to speed! 

May ravens tear the careless eyes, 

Wolves make the coward heart their prize! 

As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, 

So may his heart's blood drench his hearth! 275 

As dies in hissing gore the spark, 

Quench thou his light, Destruction dark! 

And be the grace to him denied, 



CANTO THIRD 103 

Bought by this sign to all beside!' 

He ceased; no echo gave again 280 

The murmur of the deep Amen. 

XII 

Then Roderick with impatient look 

From Brian's hand the symbol took: 

1 Speed, Malise, speed ! ' he said, and gave 

The crosslet to his henchman brave. 285 

1 The muster-place be Lanrick mead — 

Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed!' 

Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, 

A barge across Loch Katrine flew: 

High stood the henchman on the prow; 290 

So rapidly the barge-men row, 

The bubbles, where they launched the boat, 

Were all unbroken and afloat, 

Dancing in foam and ripple still, 

When it had neared the mainland hill; 295 

And from the silver beach's side 

Still was the prow three fathom wide, 

When lightly bounded to the land 

The messenger of blood and brand 

XIII 

Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide 300 

On fleeter foot was never tied. 

Speed, Malise, speed! such cause of haste 

Thine active sinews never braced. 

Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, 

Burst down like torrent from its crest; 305 



104 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

With short and springing footstep pass 

The trembling bog and false morass; 

Across the brook' like roebuck bound, 

And thread the brake like questing hound; 

The crag is high, the scaur is deep, 310 

Yet shrink not from the desperate leap : 

Parched are thy burning lips and brow, 

Yet by the fountain pause not now; 

Herald of battle, fate, and fear, 

Stretch onward in thy fleet career! 315 

The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 

Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough, 

Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace 

With rivals in the mountain race; 

But danger, death, and warrior deed 320 

Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed! 

XIV 

Fast as the fatal symbol flies, 

In arms the huts and hamlets rise; 

From winding glen, from upland brown, 

They poured each hardy tenant down. 325 

Nor slacked the messenger his pace; 

He showed the sign, he named the place, 

And, pressing forward like the wind, 

Left clamor and surprise behind. 

The fisherman forsook the strand, 330 

The swarthy smith took dirk and brand; 

With changed cheer, the mower blithe 

Left in the half-cut swath his scythe; 

The herds without a keeper strayed, 



CANTO THIRD 105 

The plough was in mid-furrow stayed, 335 

The falconer tossed his hawk away, 

The hunter left the stag at bay; 

Prompt at the signal of alarms, 

Each son of Alpine rushed to arms; 

So swept the tumult and affray 340 

Along the margin of Achray. 

Alas, thou lovely lake! that e'er 

Thy banks should echo sounds of fear! 

The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep 

So stilly on thy bosom deep, 345 

The lark's blithe carol from the cloud 

Seems for the scene too gayly loud. 

XV 

Speed, Malise, speed! The lake is past, 

Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 

And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 350 

Half hidden in the copse so green; 

There mayst thou rest, thy labor done, 

Their lord shall speed the signal on. — 

As stoops the hawk upon his prey, 

The henchman shot him down the way. 355 

What woful accents load the gale? 

The funeral yell, the female wail! 

A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 

A valiant warrior fights no more. 

Who, in the battle or the chase, 360 

At Roderick's side shall fill his place ! — 

Within the hall, where torch's ray 

Supplies the excluded beams of day, 



106 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Lies Duncan on his lowly bier, 

And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 365 

His stripling son stands mournful by, 

His youngest weeps, but knows not why; 

The village maids and matrons round 

The dismal coronach resound. 

XVI 

CORONACH 

He is gone on the mountain, 370 

He is lost to the forest, 
Like a summer-dried fountain, 

When our need was the sorest. 
The font, reappearing, 

From the rain-drops shall borrow, 375 

But to us comes no cheering, 

To Duncan no morrow! 

The hand of the reaper 

Takes the ears that are hoary, 
But the voice of the weeper 380 

Wails manhood in glory. 
The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searest, 
But our flower was in flushing, 

When blighting was nearest. 385 

Fleet foot on the correi, 

Sage counsel in cumber, 
Red hand in the foray, 



CANTO THIRD 107 

How sound is thy slumber! 
Like the dew on the mountain, 390 

Like the foam on the river, 
Like the bubble on the fountain, 

Thou art gone, and forever! 

XVII 

See Stumah, who, the bier beside, 

His master's corpse with wonder eyed, 395 

Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo 

Could send like lightning o'er the dew, 

Bristles his crest, and points his ears, 

As if some stranger step he hears. 

'T is not a mourner's muffled tread, 400 

Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead, 

But headlong haste or deadly fear 

Urge the precipitate career. 

All stand aghast : — unheeding all, 

The henchman bursts into the hall; 405 

Before the dead man's bier he stood, 

Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood; 

'The muster-place is Lanrick mead; 

Speed forth the signal! clansmen, speed!' 

XVIII 

Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 410 

Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 

In haste the stripling to his side 

His father's dirk and broadsword tied; 

But when he saw his mother's eye 

Watch him in speechless agony, 415 



108 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Back to her opened arms he flew, 

Pressed on her lips a fond adieu, — 

'Alas!' she sobbed, — 'and yet be gone, 

And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son!' 

One look he cast upon the bier, 420 

Dashed from his eye the gathering tear, 

Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast, 

And tossed aloft his bonnet crest, 

Then, like the high-brecl colt when, freed, 

First he essays his fire and speed, 425 

He vanished, and o'er moor and moss 

Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 

Suspended was the widow's tear 

While yet his footsteps she could hear; 

And when she marked the henchman's eye 430 

Wet with unwonted sympathy, 

1 Kinsman,' she said, 'his race is run 

That should have sped thine errand on; 

The oak has fallen, — the sapling bough 

Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 435 

Yet trust I well, his duty done, 

The orphan's God will guard my son. — 

And you, in many a danger true, 

At Duncan's hest your blades that drew, 

To arms, and guard that orphan's head! 440 

Let babes and women wail the dead.' 

Then weapon-clang and martial call 

Resounded through the funeral hall, 

While from the walls the attendant band 

Snatched sword and targe with hurried hand; 445 

And short and flitting energy 



CANTO THIRD 109 

Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, 

As if the sounds to warrior dear 

Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. 

But faded soon that borrowed force; 450 

Grief claimed his right, and tears their course. 

XIX 

Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, 

It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 

O'er dale and hill the summons flew, 

Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew; 455 

The tear that gathered in his eye 

He left the mountain-breeze to dry; 

Until, where Teith's young waters roll 

Betwixt him and a wooded knoll 

That graced the sable strath with green, 460 

The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 

Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge, 

But Angus paused not on the edge; 

Though the dark waves danced dizzily, 

Though reeled his sympathetic eye, 465 

He dashed amid the torrent's roar: 

His right hand high the crosslet bore, 

His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide 

And stay his footing in the tide. 

He stumbled twice, — the foam splashed high, 470 

With hoarser swell the stream raced by; 

And had he fallen, — forever there, 

Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir! 

But still, as if in parting life, 

Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife, 475 



110 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Until the opposing bank he gained, 
And up the chapel pathway strained. 

XX 

A blithesome routh that morning-tide 

Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. 

Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 480 

To Norman, heir of Armandave, 

And, issuing from the Gothic arch, 

The bridal now resumed their march. 

In rude but glad procession came 

Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame; 485 

And plaided youth, with jest and jeer, 

Which snooded maiden would not hear; 

And children, that, unwitting why, 

Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry; 

And minstrels, that in measures vied 490 

Before the young and bonny bride, 

Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose 

The tear and blush of morning rose. 

With virgin step and bashful hand 

She held the kerchiefs snowy band. 495 

The gallant bridegroom by her side 

Beheld his prize with victor's pride, 

And the glad mother in her ear 

Was closely whispering word of cheer. 

XXI 

Who meets them at the churchyard gate? 500 

The messenger of fear and fate! 



CANTO THIRD 111 

Haste in his hurried accent lies, 

And grief is swimming in his eyes. 

All dripping from the recent flood, 

Panting and travel-soiled he stood, 505 

The fatal sign of fire and sword 

Held forth, and spoke the appointed word: 

'The muster-place is Lanrick mead; 

Speed forth the signal! Norman, speed !' 

And must he change so soon the hand 510 

Just linked to his by holy band, 

For the fell Cross of blood and brand? 

And must the day so blithe that rose, 

And promised rapture in the close, 

Before its setting hour, divide 515 

The bridegroom from the plighted bride? 

O fatal doom! — it must! it must! 

Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust, 

Her summons dread, brook no delay; 

Stretch to the race, — away! away! 520 

XXII 

Yet slow he laid his plaid aside, 

And lingering eyed his lovely bride, 

Until he saw the starting tear 

Speak woe he might not stop to cheer; 

Then, trusting not a second look, 525 

In haste he sped him up the brook, 

Nor backward glanced till on the heath 

Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. — 

What in the racer's bosom stirred? 

The sickening pang of hope deferred, 530 



112 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And memory with a torturing train 

Of all his morning visions vain. 

Mingled with love's impatience, came 

The manly thirst for martial fame; 

The stormy joy of mountaineers 535 

Ere yet they rush upon the spears; 

And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning, 

And hope, from well-fought field returning, 

With war's red honors on his crest, 

To clasp his Mary to his breast. 540 

Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, 

Like fire from flint he glanced away, 

While high resolve and feeling strong 

Burst into voluntary song. 

XXIII 

The heath this night must be my bed, 545 

The bracken curtain for my head, 

My lullaby the warder's tread, 

Far, far, from love and thee, Mary; 

To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, 

My couch may be my bloody plaid, 550 

My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid ! 

It will not waken me, Mary! 

I may not, dare not, fancy now 

The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, 

I dare not think upon thy vow, 555 

And all it promised me, Mary. 
No fond regret must Norman know; 
When bursts Clan- Alpine on the foe, 



CANTO THIRD 113 

His heart must be like bended bow, 

His foot like arrow free, Mary. 560 

A time will come with feeling fraught, 
For, if I fall in battle fought, 
Thy hapless lover's dying thought 

Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. 
And if returned from conquered foes, 565 

How blithely will the evening close, 
How sweet the linnet sing repose, 

To my young bride and me, Mary! 

XXIV 

Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 

Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 570 

Rushing in conflagration strong 

Thy deep ravines and dells along, 

Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 

And reddening the dark lakes below; 

Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 575 

As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. 

The signal roused to martial coil 

The sullen margin of Loch Voil, 

Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source 

Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course; 580 

Thence southward turned its rapid road 

Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, 

Till rose in arms each man might claim 

A portion in Clan-Alpine's name, 

From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 585 

Could hardly buckle on his brand, 



114 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 

Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 

Each valley, each sequestered glen, 

Mustered its little horde of men, 590 

That met as torrents from the height 

In Highland dales their streams unite, 

Still gathering, as they pour along, 

A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 

Till at the rendezvous they stood 595 

By hundreds prompt for blows and blood, 

Each trained to arms since life began, 

Owning no tie but to his clan, 

No oath but by his chieftain's hand, 

No law but Roderick Dhu's command. 600 

XXV 

That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 

Surveyed the skirts of Benvenue, 

And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, 

To view the frontiers of Menteith. 

All backward came with news of truce; 605 

Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce, 

In Rednock courts no horsemen wait, 

No banner waved on Cardross gate, 

On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, 

Nor scared the herons from Loch Con; 610 

All seemed at peace. — Now wot ye why 

The Chieftain with such anxious eye, 

Ere to the muster he repair, 

This western frontier scanned with care? — 

In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, 615 



CANTO THIRD 115 

A fair though cruel pledge was left; 

For Douglas, to his promise true, 

That morning from the isle withdrew, 

And in a deep sequestered dell 

Had sought a low and lonely cell. 620 

By many a bard in Celtic tongue 

Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung; 

A softer name the Saxons gave, 

And called the grot the Goblin Cave. 

XXVI 

It was a wild and strange retreat, 625 

As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 

The dell, upon the mountain's crest, 

Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast; 

Its trench had stayed full many a rock, 

Hurled by primeval earthquake shock 630 

From Benvenue's gray summit wild, 

And here, in random ruin piled, 

They frowned incumbent o'er the spot, 

And formed the rugged sylvan grot. 

The oak and birch with mingled shade 635 

At noontide there a twilight made, 

Unless when short and sudden shone 

Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, 

With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 

Gains on thy depth, Futurity. 640 

No murmur waked the solemn still, 

Save tinkling of a fountain rill; 

But when the wind chafed with the lake, 

A sullen sound would upward break, 



116 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

With dashing hollow voice, that spoke 645 

The incessant Avar of wave and rock. 

Suspended cliffs with hideous sway 

Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray. 

From such a den the wolf had sprung, 

In such the wild-cat leaves her young; 650 

Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 

Sought for a space their safety there. 

Gray Superstition's whisper dread 

Debarred the spot to vulgar tread; 

For there, she said, did fays resort, 655 

And satyrs hold their sylvan court, 

By moonlight tread their mystic maze, 

And blast the rash beholder's gaze. 

XXVII 

Now eve, with western shadows long, 

Floated on Katrine bright and strong, 660 

When Roderick with a chosen few 

Repassed the heights of Benvenue. 

Above the Goblin Cave they go, 

Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo; 

The prompt retainers speed before, 665 

To launch the shallop from the shore, 

For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way 

To view the passes of Achray, 

And place his clansmen in array. 

Yet lags the Chief in musing mind, 670 

Unwonted sight, his men behind. 

A single page, to bear his sword, 

Alone attended on his lord; 



CANTO THIRD 117 

The rest their way through thickets break, 

And soon await him by the lake. 675 

It was a fair and gallant sight, 

To view them from the neighboring height, 

By the low-levelled sunbeam's light! 

For strength and stature, from the clan 

Each warrior was a chosen man, 680 

As even afar might well be seen, 

By their proud step and martial mien. 

Their feathers dance, their tartans float, 

Their targets gleam, as by the boat 

A wild and warlike group they stand, 685 

That well became such mountain-strand. 

XXVIII 

Their Chief with step reluctant still 

Was lingering on the craggy hill, 

Hard by where turned apart the road 

To Douglas's obscure abode. 690 

It was but with that dawning morn 

That Roderick Dhu had proudly sworn 

To drown his love in war's wild roar, 

Nor think of Ellen Douglas more; 

But he who stems a stream with sand, 695 

And fetters flame with flaxen band, 

Has yet a harder task to prove, — 

By firm resolve to conquer love! 

Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, 

Still hovering near his treasure lost; 700 

For though his haughty heart deny 

A parting meeting to his eye, 



118 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Still fondly strains his anxious ear 

The accents of her voice to hear, 

And inly did he curse the breeze 705 

That waked to sound the rustling trees. 

But hark ! what mingles in the strain? 

It is the harp of Allan-bane, 

That wakes its measure slow and high, 

Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 710 

What melting voice attends the strings? 

'T is Ellen, or an angel, sings. 

XXIX 

HYMN TO THE VIRGIN 

Ave Maria! maiden mild! 

Listen to a maiden's prayer! 
Thou canst hear though from the wild, 715 

Thou canst save amid despair. 
Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 

Though banished, outcast, and reviled — 
Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer; 

Mother, hear a suppliant child! 720 

Ave Maria! 
Ave Maria! undefiled! 

The flinty couch we now must share 
Shall seem with down of eider piled, 

If thy protection hover there. 
The murky cavern's heavy air 725 

Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled; 
Then, Maiden! hear a maiden's prayer, 

Mother, list a suppliant child! 

Ave Maria! 



CANTO THIRD 119 

Ave Maria! stainless styled! 

Foul demons of the earth and air, 730 

From this their wonted haunt exiled, 

Shall flee before thy presence fair. 
We bow us to our lot of care, 

Beneath thy guidance reconciled: 
Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer, 735 

And for a father hear a child! 

Ave Maria! 

XXX 

Died on the harp the closing hymn, — 

Unmoved in attitude and limb, 

As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord 

Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 740 

Until the page with humble sign 

Twice pointed to the sun's decline. 

Then while his plaid he round him cast, 

'It is the last time — 't is the last/ 

He muttered thrice, — 'the last time e'er 745 

That angel-voice shall Roderick hear ! ' 

It was a goading thought, — his stride 

Hied hastier down the mountain-side; 

Sullen he flung him in the boat, 

An instant 'cross the lake it shot. 750 

They landed in that silvery bay, 

And eastward held their hasty way, 

Till, with the latest beams of light, 

The band arrived on Lanrick height, 

Where mustered in the vale below 755 

Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 



120 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

XXXI 

A various scene the clansmen made: 

Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed; 

But most, with mantles folded round, 

Were couched to rest upon the ground, 760 

Scarce to be known by curious eye 

From the deep heather where they lie, 

So well was matched the tartan screen 

With heath-bell dark and brackens green; 

Unless where, here and there, a blade 765 

Or lance's point a glimmer made, 

Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. 

But when, advancing through the gloom, 

They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, 

Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, 7;o 

Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 

Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 

Three times returned the martial yell; 

It died upon Bochastle's plain, 

And Silence claimed her evening reign. 775 



CANTO FOURTH 



The Prophecy 

I 

1 The rose is fairest when J t is budding new, 

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears; 
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, 

And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. 

O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 5 

I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, 

Emblem of hope and love through future years!' 
Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. 

II 

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, 10 

Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 
All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, 
His axe and bow beside him lay, 
For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood 
A wakeful sentinel he stood. 15 

Hark! — on the rock a footstep rung, 
And instant to his arms he sprung. 
' Stand, or thou diest! — What, Malise? — soon 
Art thou returned from Braes of Doune. 

121 



122 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

By thy keen step and glance I know, 20 

Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe.' — 

For while the Fiery Cross hied on, 

On distant scout had Malise gone. — 

' Where sleeps the Chief?' the henchman said. 

' Apart, in yonder misty glade; 25 

To his lone couch I '11 be your guide.' — 

Then called a slumberer by his side, 

And stirred him with his slackened bow, — 

'Up, up, Glentarkin! rouse thee, ho! 

We seek the Chieftain; on the track 30 

Keep eagle watch till I come back.' 

Ill 

Together up the pass they sped. 

'What of the foeman?' Norman said. — 

'Varying reports from near and far; 

This certain, — that a band of war 35 

Has for two days been ready boune, 

At prompt command to march from Doune; 

King James the while, with princely powers, 

Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 

Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 40 

Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 

Inured to bide such bitter bout, 

The warrior's plaid may bear it out; 

But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 

A shelter for thy bonny bride? ' — 45 

'What! know ye not that Roderick's care 

To the lone isle hath caused repair 

Each maid and matron of the clan, 



CANTO FOURTH 123 

And every child and aged man 

Unfit for arms; and given his charge, 50 

Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, 

Upon these lakes shall float at large, 

But all beside the islet moor, 

That such dear pledge may rest secure? ' — 

IV 

i 'T is well advised, — the Chieftain's plan 55 

Bespeaks the father of his clan. 

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 

Apart from all his followers true? ' 

'It is because last evening-tide 

Brian an augury hath tried, 60 

Of that dread kind which must not be 

Unless in dread extremity, 

The Taghairm called; by which, afar, 

Our sires foresaw the events of war. 

Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew/ — 65 

MAL1SE 

'Ah! well the gallant brute I knew! 

The choicest of the prey we had 

When swept our merrymen Gallangad. 

His hide was snow, his horns were dark, 

His red eye glowed like fiery spark; 70 

So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet, 

Sore did he cumber our retreat, 

And kept our stoutest kerns in awe, 

Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 

But steep and flinty was the road, 75 



124 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, 
And when we came to Dennan's Row 
A child might scathless stroke his brow.' 



NORMAN 

'That bull was slain; his reeking hide 

They stretched the cataract beside, 80 

Whose waters their wild tumult toss 

Adown the black and craggy boss 

Of that huge cliff whose ample verge 

Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. 

Couched on a shelf beneath its brink, 85 

Close where the thundering torrents sink, 

Rocking beneath their headlong sway, 

And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, 

Midst groan of rock and roar of stream, 

The wizard waits prophetic dream. 90 

Nor distant rests the Chief; — but hush! 

See, gliding slow through mist and bush, 

The hermit gains yon rock, and stands 

To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 

Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost, 95 

That hovers o'er a slaughtered host? 

Or raven on the blasted oak, 

That, watching while the deer is broke, 

His morsel claims with sullen croak? ' 

MALISE 

' Peace! peace! to other than to me 100 

Thy words were evil augury; 



CANTO FOURTH 125 

But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 
Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid, 
Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell, 
Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell. 105 

The Chieftain joins him, see — and now 
Together they descend the brow/ 

VI 

And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord 

The Hermit Monk held solemn word : — 

' Roderick! it is a fearful strife, 110 

For man endowed with mortal life, 

Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 

Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, 

Whose eye can stare in stony trance, 

Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, — 115 

'T is hard for such to view, unfurled, 

The curtain of the future world. 

Yet, witness every quaking limb, 

My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim, 

My soul with harrowing anguish torn, 120 

This for my Chieftain have I borne ! — 

The shapes that sought my fearful couch 

A human tongue may ne'er avouch; 

No mortal man — save he, who, bred 

Between the living and the dead, 125 

Is gifted beyond nature's law — 

Had e'er survived to say he saw. 

At length the fateful answer came 

In characters of living flame! 

Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, 130 



126 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

But borne and branded in my soul : — 
Which spills the foremost foeman's life, 
That party conquers in the strife/ 

VII 

'Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care! 

Good is thine augury, and fair. 135 

Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood 

But first our broadswords tasted blood. 

A surer victim still I know, 

Self-offered to the auspicious blow: 

A spy has sought my land this morn, — 140 

No eve shall witness his return! 

My followers guard each pass's mouth, 

To east, to westward, and to south; 

Red Murdock, bribed to be his guide, 

Has charge to lead his steps aside, 145 

Till in deep path or dingle brown 

He light on those shall bring him down. — 

But see, who comes his news to show! 

Malise ! what tidings of the foe? ' 

VIII 

'At Doune, o'er many a spear and glaive 150 

Two Barons proud their banners wave. 

I saw the Moray's silver star, 

And marked the sable pale of Mar.' 

'By Alpine's soul, high tidings those! 

I love to hear of worthy foes. 155 

When move they on? ' ' To-morrow's noon 

Will see them here for battle boune/ 



CANTO FOURTH 127 

'Then shall it see a meeting stern! 

But, for the place, — say, couldst thou learn 

Nought of the friendly clans of Earn? 160 

Strengthened by them, we well might bide 

The battle on Benledi's side. 

Thou couldst not? — well! Clan- Alpine's men 

Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen; 

Within Loch Katrine's gorge we '11 fight, 165 

All in our maids' and matrons' sight, 

Each for his hearth and household fire, 

Father for child, and son for sire, 

Lover for maid beloved! — But why — 

Is it the breeze affects mine eye? 170 

Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear! 

A messenger of doubt or fear? 

No ! sooner may the Saxon lance 

Unfix Benledi from his stance, 

Than doubt or terror can pierce through 175 

The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu! 

'T is stubborn as his trusty targe. 

Each to his post! — all know their charge.' 

The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, 

The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 180 

Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. — 

I turn me from the martial roar, 

And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. 

IX 

Where is the Douglas? — he is gone; 

And Ellen sits on the gray stone 185 

Fast by the cave, and makes her moan, 



128 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

While vainly Allan's words of cheer 

Are poured on her unheeding ear. 

' He will return — dear lady, trust ! — 

With joy return; — he will — he must. 190 

Well was it time to seek afar 

Some refuge from impending war, 

When e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 

Are cowed by the approaching storm. 

I saw their boats with many a light, 195 

Floating the livelong yesternight, 

Shifting like flashes darted forth 

By the red streamers of the north; 

I marked at morn how close they ride, 

Thick moored by the lone islet's side, 200 

Like wild ducks couching in the fen 

When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 

Since this rude race dare not abide 

The peril on the mainland side, 

Shall not thy noble father's care 205 

Some safe retreat for thee prepare?' 



X 



ELLEN 

'No, Allan, no! Pretext so kind 

My wakeful terrors could not blind. 

When in such tender tone, yet grave, 

Douglas a parting blessing gave, 210 

The tear that glistened in his eye 

Drowned not his purpose fixed and high. 

My soul, though feminine and weak, 



CANTO FOURTH 129 

Can image his; e'en as the lake, 

Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, 215 

Reflects the invulnerable rock. 

He hears report of battle rife, 

He deems himself the cause of strife. 

I saw him redden when the theme 

Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream 220 

Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound, 

Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. 

Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught? 

O no ! 't was apprehensive thought 

For the kind youth, — for Roderick too — 225 

Let me be just — that friend so true; 

In danger both, and in our cause! 

Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 

Why else that solemn warning given, 

"If not on earth, we meet in heaven!" 230 

Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, 

If eve return him not again, 

Am I to hie and make me known? 

Alas, he goes to Scotland's throne, 

Buys his friends' safety with his own; 235 

He goes to do — what I had done, 

Had Douglas' daughter been his son!' 

XI 

'Nay, lovely Ellen! — dearest, nay! 

If aught should his return delay, 

He only named yon holy fane 240 

As fitting place to meet again. 

Be sure he's safe; and for the Graeme, — 



130 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Heaven's blessing on his gallant name ! — 

My visioned sight may yet prove true, 

Nor bode of ill to him or you. 245 

When did my gifted dream beguile? 

Think of the stranger at the isle, 

And think upon the harpings slow 

That presaged this approaching woe! 

Sooth was my prophecy of fear; 250 

Believe it when it augurs cheer. 

Would we had left this dismal spot! 

Ill luck still haunts a fairy grot. 

Of such a wondrous tale I know — 

Dear lady, change that look of woe, 255 

My harp was wont thy grief to cheer.' 

ELLEN 

'Well, be it as thou wilt; I hear, 

But cannot stop the bursting tear/ 

The Minstrel tried his simple art, 

But distant far was Ellen's heart. 260 



XII 

Ballad 
alice brand 

Merry it is in the good greenwood, 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 

When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, 
And the hunter's horn is ringing. 



CANTO FOURTH 131 

'O Alice Brand, my native land 265 

Is lost for love of you; 
And we must hold by wood and wold, 

As outlaws wont to do. 

' O Alice, 't was all for thy locks so bright, 
And J t was all for thine eyes so blue, 270 

That on the night of our luckless flight 
Thy brother bold I slew. 

'Now must I teach to hew the beech 

The hand that held the glaive, 
For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 275 

And stakes to fence our cave. 

'And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, 

That wont on harp to stray, 
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer, 

To keep the cold away.' 280 

' Richard ! if my brother died, 

'T was but a fatal chance; 
For darkling was the battle tried, 

And fortune sped the lance. 

'If pall and vair no more I wear, 285 

Nor thou the crimson sheen, 
As warm, we 11 say, is the russet gray, 

As gay the forest-green. 

'And, Richard, if our lot be hard, 
And lost thy native land, 290 



132 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Still Alice has her own Richard, 
And he his Alice Brand.' 

XIII 

BALLAD CONTINUED 

'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood; 

So blithe Lady Alice is singing; 
On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 295 

Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 

Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 

Who woned within the hill, — 
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church, 

His voice was ghostly shrill. 300 

'Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 

Our moonlight circle's screen? 
Or who comes here to chase the deer, 

Beloved of our Elfin Queen? 
Or who may dare on wold to wear 305 

The fairies' fatal green? 

' Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, 

For thou wert christened man; 
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 

For muttered word or ban. 310 

'Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, 

The curse of the sleepless eye; 
Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 

Nor yet find leave to die.' 



CANTO FOURTH 133 

XIV 

BALLAD CONTINUED 

'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood, 315 
Though the birds have stilled their singing; 

The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
And Richard is fagots bringing. 

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, 

Before Lord Richard stands, 320 

And, as he crossed and blessed himself, 
'I fear not sign/ quoth the grisly elf, 

'That is made with bloody hands.' 

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 

That woman void of fear, — 325 

'And if there 's blood upon his hand, 

'T is but the blood of deer/ 

'Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood! 

It cleaves unto his hand, 
The stain of thine own kindly blood, 330 

The blood of Ethert Brand/ 

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, 

And made the holy sign, — 
'And if there 's blood on Richard's hand, 

A spotless hand is mine. 335 

'And I conjure thee, demon elf, 
By Him whom demons fear, 



134 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

To show us whence thou art thyself, 
And what thine errand here? ' 



XV 



BALLAD CONTINUED 



c i 



T is merry, 't is merry, in Fairy-land, 340 

When fairy birds are singing, 
When the court doth ride by their monarch's side, 
With bit and bridle ringing: 

'And gayly shines the Fairy-land — 

But all is glistening show, 345 

Like the idle gleam that December's beam 

Can dart on ice and snow. 

'And fading, like that varied gleam, 

Is our inconstant shape, 
Who now like knight and lady seem, 350 

And now like dwarf and ape. 

1 It was between the night and day, 

When the Fairy King has power, 
That I sunk down in a sinful fray, 
And 'twixt life and death was snatched away 355 

To the joyless Elfin bower. 

'But wist I of a woman bold, 

Who thrice my brow durst sign, 
I might regain my mortal mould, 

As fair a form as thine.' 360 



CANTO FOURTH 135 

She crossed him once — she crossed him twice — 

That lady was so brave; 
The fouler grew his goblin hue, 

The darker grew the cave. 

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold; 365 

He rose beneath her hand 
The fairest knight on Scottish mould, 

Her brother, Ethert Brand! 

Merry it is in good greenwood, 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 370 

But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray, 

When all the bells were ringing. 

XVI 

Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, 

A stranger climbed the steepy glade; 

His martial step, his stately mien, 375 

His hunting suit of Lincoln green, 

His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 

'T is Snowdoun's Knight, ? t is James Fitz-James. 

Ellen beheld as in a dream, 

Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream: 380 

'O stranger! in such hour of fear 

What evil hap has brought thee here? ' 

'An evil hap how can it be 

That bids me look again on thee? 

By promise bound, my former guide 385 

Met me betimes this morning-tide, 

And marshalled over bank and bourne 



136 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

The happy path of my return.' 

'The happy path! — what! said he naught 

Of war, of battle to be fought, 390 

Of guarded pass?' 'No, by my faith! 

Nor saw I aught could augur scathe.' 

'0 haste thee, Allan, to the kern: 

Yonder his tartans I discern; 

Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 395 

That he will guide the stranger sure! — 

What prompted thee, unhappy man? 

The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 

Had not been bribed, by love or fear, 

Unknown to him to guide thee here.' 400 

XVII 

'Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, 

Since it is worthy care from thee; 

Yet life I hold but idle breath 

When love or honor's weighed with death. 

Then let me profit by my chance, 405 

And speak my purpose bold at once. 

I come to bear thee from a wild 

Where ne'er before such blossom smiled, 

By this soft hand to lead thee far 

From frantic scenes of feud and war. 410 

Near Bochastle my horses wait; 

They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 

I '11 place thee in a lovely bower, 

I '11 guard thee like a tender flower — ' 

'O hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female art, 415 

To say I do not read thy heart; 



CANTO FOURTH 137 

Too much, before, my selfish ear 

Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 

That fatal bait hath lured thee back, 

In deathful hour, o'er dangerous track; 420 

And how, O how, can I atone 

The wreck my vanity brought on! — 

One way remains — I '11 tell him all — 

Yes! struggling bosom, forth it shall! 

Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, 425 

Buy thine own pardon with thy shame ! 

But first — my father is a man 

Outlawed and exiled, under ban; 

The price of blood is on his head, 

With me 't were infamy to wed. 430 

Still wouldst thou speak? — then hear the truth ! 

Fitz-James, there is a noble youth — 

If yet he is ! — exposed for me 

And mine to dread extremity — 

Thou hast the secret of my heart; 435 

Forgive, be generous, and depart!' 

XVIII 

Fitz-James knew every wily train 

A lady's fickle heart to gain, 

But here he knew and felt them vain. 

There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, 440 

To give her steadfast speech the lie; 

In maiden confidence she stood, 

Though mantled in her cheek the blood, 

And told her love with such a sigh 

Of deep and hopeless agony, 445 



138 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom 

And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 

Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye, 

But not with hope fled sympathy. 

He proffered to attend her side, 450 

As brother would a sister guide. 

'O little know'st thou Roderick's heart! 

Safer for both we go apart. 

O haste thee, and from Allan learn 

If thou mayst trust yon wily kern.' 455 

With hand upon his forehead laid, 

The conflict of his mind to shade, 

A parting step or two he made; 

Then, as some thought had crossed his brain, 

He paused, and turned, and came again. 460 

XIX 

'Hear, lady, yet a parting word! — 

It chanced in fight that my poor sword 

Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. 

This ring the grateful Monarch gave, 

And bade, when I had boon to crave, 465 

To bring it back, and boldly claim 

The recompense that I would name. 

Ellen, I am no courtly lord, 

But one who lives by lance and sword, 

Whose castle is his helm and shield, 470 

His lordship the embattled field. 

What from a prince can I demand, 

Who neither reck of state nor land? 

Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine; 



CANTO FOURTH 139 

Each guard and usher knows the sign. 475 

Seek thou the King without delay; 

This signet shall secure thy way: 

And claim thy suit, whatever it be, 

As ransom of his pledge to me.' 

He placed the golden circlet on, 480 

Paused — kissed her hand — and then was gone. 

The aged Minstrel stood aghast, 

So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 

He joined his guide, and wending down 

The ridges of the mountain brown, 485 

Across the stream they took their way 

That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. 

XX 

All in the Trosachs' glen was still, 

Noontide was sleeping on the hill: 

Sudden his guide whooped loud and high — 490 

' Murdoch! was that a signal cry?' — 

He stammered forth, 'I shout to scare 

Yon raven from his dainty fare/ 

He looked — he knew the raven's prey, 

His own brave steed: 'Ah! gallant gray! 495 

For thee — for me, perchance — 't were well 

We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 

Murdoch, move first — but silently; 

Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die!' 

Jealous and sullen on they fared, 500 

Each silent, each upon his guard. 



140 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



XXI 



Now wound the path its dizzy ledge 

Around a precipice's edge, 

When lo ! a wasted female form, 

Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 505 

In tattered weeds and wild array, 

Stood on a cliff beside the way, 

And glancing round her restless eye, 

Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, 

Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy. 510 

Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom; 

With gesture wild she waved a plume 

Of feathers, which the eagles fling 

To crag and cliff from dusky wing; 

Such spoils her desperate step had sought, 515 

Where scarce was footing for the goat. 

The tartan plaid she first descried, 

And shrieked till all the rocks replied; 

As loud she laughed when near they drew, 

For then the Lowland garb she knew; 520 

And then her hands she wildly wrung, 

And then she wept, and then she sung — 

She sung ! — the voice, in better time, 

Perchance to harp or lute might chime; 

And now, though strained and roughened, still 525 

Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 



CANTO FOURTH 141 

XXII 

SONG 

They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, 

They say my brain is warped and wrung — 

I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 530 

But were I now where Allan glides, 

Or heard my native Devan's tides, 

So sweetly would I rest, and pray 

That Heaven would close my wintry day! 

'T was thus my hair they bade me braid, 535 

They made me to the church repair; 

It was my bridal morn they said, 
And my true love would meet me there. 

But woe betide the cruel guile 

That drowned in blood the morning smile! 540 

And woe betide the fairy dream ! 

I only waked to sob and scream. 

XXIII 

'Who is this maid? what means her lay? 

She hovers o'er the hollow way, 

And flutters wide her mantle gray, 545 

As the lone heron spreads his wing, 

By twilight, o'er a haunted spring.' 

"T is Blanche of Devan/ Murdoch said, 

'A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 



142 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, 550 

When Roderick forayed De van-side. 

The gay bridegroom resistance made, 

And felt our Chiefs unconquered blade. 

I marvel she is now at large, 

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. — 555 

Hence, brain-sick fool!' — He raised his bow: — 

'Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, 

I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far 

As ever peasant pitched a bar!' 

'Thanks, champion, thanks!' the Maniac cried, 560 

And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. 

'See the gray pennons I prepare, 

To seek my true love through the air! 

I will not lend that savage groom, 

To break his fall, one downy plume! 565 

No! — deep amid disjointed stones, 

The wolves shall batten on his bones, 

And then shall his detested plaid, 

By bush and brier in mid-air stayed, 

Wave forth a banner fair and free, 570 

Meet signal for their revelry.' 



XXIV 

'Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still !' 

'O! thou look'st kindly, and I will. 

Mine eye has dried and wasted been, 

But still it loves the Lincoln green; 575 

And, though mine ear is all unstrung, 

Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 



CANTO FOURTH 143 

'For O, my sweet William was forester true, 

He stole poor Blanche's heart away! 
His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 580 

And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay! 

'It was not that I meant to tell . . . 

But thou art wise and guessest well.' 

Then, in a low and broken tone, 

And hurried note, the song went on. 585 

Still on the Clansman fearfully 

She fixed her apprehensive eye, 

Then turned it on the Knight, and then 

Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 

XXV 

'The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, — 590 

Ever sing merrily, merrily; 
The bows they bend, and the knives they whet, 

Hunters live so cheerily. 

' It was a stag, a stag of ten, 

Bearing its branches sturdily; 595 

He came stately down the glen, — 

Ever sing hardily, hardily. 

'It was there he met with a wounded doe, 

She was bleeding deathfully; 
She warned him of the toils below, 600 

O, so faithfully, faithfully! 

'He had an eye, and he could heed, — 
Ever sing warily, warily; 



144 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

He had a foot, and he could speed, — 

Hunters watch so narrowly/ 605 

XXVI 

Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed, 

When Ellen's hints and fears were lost; 

But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 

And Blanche's song conviction brought. 

Not like a stag that spies the snare, 610 

But lion of the hunt aware, 

He waved at once his blade on high, 

1 Disclose thy treachery, or die ! ' 

Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, 

But in his race his bow he drew. 615 

The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's crest, 

And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast. — 

Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed, 

For ne'er had Alpine's son such need; 

With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 620 

The fierce avenger is behind! 

Fate judges of the rapid strife — 

The forfeit death — the prize is fife; 

Thy kindred ambush lies before, 

Close couched upon the heathery moor; 625 

Them couldst thou reach ! — it may not be — 

Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see, 

The fiery Saxon gains on thee! — 

Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, 

As lightning strikes the pine to dust; 630 

With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain 

Ere he can win his blade again. 



CANTO FOURTH 145 

Bent o'er the fallen with falcon eye, 

He grimly smiled to see him die, 

Then slower wended back his way, 635 

Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 

XXVII 

She sat beneath the birchen tree, 

Her elbow resting on her knee; 

She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 

And gazed on it, and feebly laughed; 640 

Her wreath of broom and feathers gray, 

Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 

The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried, — 

'Stranger, it is in vain! 7 she cried. 

'This hour of death has given me more 645 

Of reason's power than years before; 

For, as these ebbing veins decay, 

My frenzied visions fade away. 

A helpless injured wretch I die, 

And something tells me in thine eye 650 

That thou wert my avenger born. 

Seest thou this tress? — O, still I Ve worn 

This little tress of yellow hair, 

Through danger, frenzy, and despair! 

It once was bright and clear as thine, 655 

But blood and tears have dimmed its shine. 

I will not tell thee when ? t was shred, 

Nor from what guiltless victim's head, — 

My brain would turn! — but it shall wave 

Like plumage on thy helmet brave, 660 

Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, 



146 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And thou wilt bring it me again. 

I waver still. — God! more bright 

Let reason beam her parting light ! — 

O, by thy knighthood's honored sign, 665 

And for thy life preserved by mine, 

When thou shalt see a darksome man, 

Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, 

With tartans broad and shadowy plume, 

And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 670 

Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, 

And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong! — 

They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . 

Avoid the path . . . O God! . . . farewell/ 

XXVIII 

A kindly heart had brave Fitz- James; 675 

Fast poured his eyes at pity's claims; 

And now, with mingled grief and ire, 

He saw the murdered maid expire. 

1 God, in my need, be my relief, 

As I wreak this on yonder Chief!' 680 

A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 

He blended with her bridegroom's hair; 

The mingled braid in blood he dyed, 

And placed it on his bonnet-side: 

'By Him whose word is truth, I swear, 685 

No other favor will I wear, 

Till this sad token I imbrue 

In the best blood of Roderick Dhu ! — 

But hark! what means yon faint halloo? 

The chase is up, — but they shall know, 690 



CANTO FOURTH 147 

The stag at bay's a dangerous foe.' 

Barred from the known but guarded way, 

Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray, 

And oft must change his desperate track, 

By stream and precipice turned back. 695 

Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, 

From lack of food and loss of strength, 

He couched him in a thicket hoar, 

And thought his toils and perils o'er : — 

1 Of all my rash adventures past, 700 

This frantic feat must prove the last! 

Who e'er so mad but might have guessed 

That all this Highland hornet's nest 

Would muster up in swarms so soon 

As e'er they heard of bands at Doune? — 705 

Like bloodhounds now they search me out, — 

Hark, to the whistle and the shout! — 

If farther through the wilds I go, 

I only fall upon the foe : 

I '11 couch me here till evening gray, 710 

Then darkling try my dangerous way.' 

XXIX 

The shades of eve come slowly down, 

The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, 

The owl awakens from her del^ 

The fox is heard upon the fell; 715 

Enough remains of glimmering light 

To guide the wanderer's steps aright, 

Yet not enough from far to show 

His figure to the watchful foe. 



148 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

With cautious step and ear awake, 720 

He climbs the crag and threads the brake; 

And not the summer solstice there 

Tempered the midnight mountain air, 

But every breeze that swept the wold 

Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. 725 

In dread, in danger, and alone, 

Famished and chilled, through ways unknown, 

Tangled and steep, he journeyed on; 

Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, 

A watch-fire close before him burned. 730 

XXX 

Beside its embers red and clear, 

Basked in his plaid a mountaineer; 

And up he sprung with sword in hand, — 

'Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!' 

'A stranger/ 'What dost thou require?' 735 

'Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 

My life's beset, my path is lost, 

The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.' 

'Art thou a friend to Roderick?' 'No.' 

'Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe?' 740 

'I dare! to him and all the band 

He brings to aid his murderous hand.' 

'Bold words! — but, though the beast of game 

The privilege of chase may claim, 

Though space and law the stag we lend, 745 

Ere hound we slip or bow we bend, 

Who ever recked, where, how, or when, 

The prowling fox was trapped or slain? 



CANTO FOURTH 149 

Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie, 

Who say thou cam'st a secret spy!' — 750 

'They do, by heaven! — come Roderick Dhu, 

And of his clan the boldest two, 

And let me but till morning rest, 

I write the falsehood on their crest.' 

'If by the blaze I mark aright, 755 

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight.' 

1 Then by these tokens mayst thou know 

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.' 

'Enough, enough; sit down and share 

A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.' 760 

XXXI 

He gave him of his Highland cheer, 

The hardened flesh of mountain deer; 

Dry fuel on the fire he laid, 

And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 

He tended him like welcome guest, 765 

Then thus his further speech addressed : — 

'Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 

A clansman born, a kinsman true; 

Each word against his honor spoke 

Demands of me avenging stroke; 770 

Yet more, — upon thy fate, 't is said, 

A mighty augury is laid. 

It rests with me to wind my horn, — 

Thou art with numbers overborne; 

It rests with me, here, brand to brand, 775 

Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand: 

But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause, 



150 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Will I depart from honor's laws; 

To assail a wearied man were shame, 

And stranger is a holy name; 780 

Guidance and rest, and food and fire, 

In vain he never must require. 

Then rest thee here till dawn of day; 

Myself will guide thee on the way, 

O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, 785 

Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, 

As far as Coilantogle's ford; 

From thence thy warrant is thy sword/ 

'I take thy courtesy, by heaven, 

As freely as 't is nobly given!' 790 

'Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry 

Sings us the lake's wild lullaby.' 

With that he shook the gathered heath, 

And spread his plaid upon the wreath; 

And the brave foemen, side by side, 795 

Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, 

And slept until the dawning beam 

Purpled the mountain and the stream. 



CANTO FIFTH 

The Combat 

I 

Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 
When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied, 

It smiles upon the dreary brow of night, 
And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, 
And lights the fearful path on mountain-side, — 5 

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, 

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star, 

Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the 
brow of War. 

II 

That early beam, so fair and sheen, 10 

Was twinkling through the hazel screen, 
When, rousing at its glimmer red, 
The warriors left their lowly bed, 
Looked out upon the dappled sky, 
Muttered their soldier matins by, 15 

And then awaked their fire, to steal, 
As short and rude, their soldier meal. 
That o'er, the Gael around him threw 
His graceful plaid of varied hue, 

151 



152 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And, true to promise, led the way, 20 

By thicket green and mountain gray. 

A wildering path ! — they winded now 

Along the precipice's brow, 

Commanding the rich scenes beneath, 

The windings of the Forth and Teith, 25 

And all the vales between that lie, 

Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky; 

Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 

Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 

'T was oft so steep, the foot was fain 30 

Assistance from the hand to gain; 

So tangled oft that, bursting through, 

Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, — 

That diamond dew, so pure and clear, 

It rivals all but Beauty's tear! 35 

III 

At length they came where, stern and steep, 

The hill sinks down upon the deep. 

Here Vennachar in silver flows, 

There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose; 

Ever the hollow path twined on, 40 

Beneath steep bank and threatening stone; 

A hundred men might hold the post 

With hardihood against a host. 

The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 

Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 45 

With shingles bare, and cliffs between, 

And patches bright of bracken green, 

And heather black, that waved so high, 



CANTO FIFTH 153 

It held the copse in rivalry. 

But where the lake slept deep and still, 50 

Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill; 

And oft both path and hill were torn, 

Where wintry torrent down had borne, 

And heaped upon the cumbered land 

Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 55 

So toilsome was the road to trace, 

The guide, abating of his pace, 

Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 

And asked Fitz-James by what strange cause 

He sought these wilds, traversed by few, 60 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 

I IV 

1 Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, 

Hangs in my belt and by my side; 

Yet, sooth to tell/ the Saxon said, 

'I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 65 

When here, but three days since, I came, 

Bewildered in pursuit of game, 

All seemed as peaceful and as still 

As the mist slumbering on yon hill; 

Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 70 

Nor soon expected back from war. 

Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide, 

Though deep perchance the villain lied/ 

' Yet wiiy a second venture try? ' 

'A warrior thou, and ask me why! — 75 

Moves our free course by such fixed cause 

As gives the poor mechanic laws? 



154 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Enough, I sought to drive away 

The lazy hours of peaceful day; 

Slight cause will then suffice to guide 80 

A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — 

A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed, 

The merry glance of mountain maid; 

Or, if a path be dangerous known, 

The danger's self is lure alone.' 85 

V 

'Thy secret keep, I urge thee not;. — 

Yet, ere again ye sought this spot, 

Say, heard ye naught of Lowland war, 

Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar? ' 

'No, by my word; — of bands prepared 90 

To guard King James's sports I heard; 

Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear 

This muster of the mountaineer, 

Their pennons will abroad be flung, 

Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.' 95 

'Free be they flung! for we were loath 

Their silken folds should feast the moth. 

Free be they flung! — as free shall wave 

Clan-Alpine's pine in banner brave. 

But, stranger, peaceful since you came, 100 

Bewildered in the mountain-game, 

Whence the bold boast by which you show 

Vich- Alpine's vowed and mortal foe? ' 

'Warrior, but yester-morn I knew 

Naught of thy Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 105 

Save as an outlawed desperate man. 



CANTO FIFTH 155 

The chief of a rebellious clan, 

Who, in the Regent's court and sight, 

With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight; 

Yet this alone might from his part 110 

Sever each true and loyal heart/ 

VI 

Wrathful at such arraignment foul, 

Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl. 

A space he paused, then sternly said, 

'And heardst thou why he drew his blade? 115 

Heardst thou that shameful word and blow 

Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe? 

What recked the Chieftain if he stood 

On Highland heath or Holy-Rood? 

He rights such wrong where it is given, 120 

If it were in the court of heaven/ 

'Still was it outrage; — yet, 't is true, 

Not then claimed sovereignty his due; 

While Albany with feeble hand 

Held borrowed truncheon of command, 125 

The young King, mewed in Stirling tower, 

Was stranger to respect and power. 

But then, thy Chieftain's robber life ! — 

Winning mean prey by causeless strife, 

Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 130 

His herds and harvest reared in vain, — 

Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 

The spoils from such foul foray borne.' 



156 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

VII 

The Gael beheld him grim the while, 

And answered with disdainful smile : 135 

' Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 

I marked thee send delighted eye 

Far to the south and east, where lay, 

Extended in succession gay, 

Deep waving fields and pastures green, 140 

With gentle slopes and groves between: — 

These fertile plains, that softened vale, 

Were once the birthright of the Gael; 

The stranger came with iron hand, 

And from our fathers reft the land. 145 

Where dwell we now? See, rudely swell 

Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 

Ask we this savage hill we tread 

For fattened steer or household bread, 

Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, 150 

And well the mountain might reply, — 

"To you, as to your sires of yore, 

Belong the target and claymore! 

I give you shelter in my breast, 

Your own good blades must win the rest." 155 

Pent in this fortress of the North, 

Think'st thou we will not sally forth, 

To spoil the spoiler as we may, 

And from the robber rend the prey? 

Ay, by my soul! — While on yon plain 160 

The Saxon rears one shock of grain, 

While of ten thousand herds there strays 

But one along yon river's maze, — 



CANTO FIFTH 157 

The Gael, of plain and river heir, 

Shall with strong hand redeem his share. 165 

Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold 

That plundering Lowland field and fold 

Is aught but retribution true? 

Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu.' 

VIII 

Answered Fitz-James: ' And, if I sought, 170 

Think'st thou no other could be brought? 

What deem ye of my path waylaid? 

My life given o'er to ambuscade?' 

1 As of a meed to rashness due: 

Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 175 

I seek my hound or falcon strayed, 

I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 

Free hadst thou been to come and go; 

But secret path marks secret foe. 

Nor yet for this, even as a spy, 180 

Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die, 

Save to fulfil an augury.' 

'Well, let it pass; nor will I now 

Fresh cause of enmity avow, 

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 185 

Enough, I am by promise tied 

To match me with this man of pride : 

Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 

In peace; but when I come again, 

I come with banner, brand, and bow, 190 

As leader seeks his mortal foe. 

For love-lom swain in lady's bower 



158 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, 

As I, until before me stand 

This rebel Chieftain and his band!' 195 

IX 

1 Have then thy wish ! ' — He whistled shrill, 

And he was answered from the hill; 

Wild as the scream of the curlew, 

From crag to crag the signal flew. 

Instant, through copse and heath, arose 200 

Bonnets and spears and bended bows; 

On right, on left, above, below, 

Sprung up at once the lurking foe; 

From shingles gray their lances start, 

The bracken bush sends forth the dart, 205 

The rushes and the willow-wand 

Are bristling into axe and brand, 

And every tuft of broom gives life 

To plaided warrior armed for strife. 

That whistle garrisoned the glen 210 

At once with full five hundred men, 

As if the yawning hill to heaven 

A subterranean host had given. 

Watching their leader's beck and will, 

All silent there they stood and still. 215 

Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 

As if an infant's touch could urge 

Their headlong passage down the verge, 

With step and weapon forward flung, 220 

Upon the mountain-side they hung. 



CANTO FIFTH 159 

The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 

Along Benledi's living side, 

Then fixed his eye and sable brow 

Full on Fitz-James : ' How say'st thou now? 225 

These are Clan- Alpine's warriors true; 

And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! ' 

X 

Fitz-James was brave : — though to his heart 

The life-blood thrilled with sudden start, 

He manned himself with dauntless air, 230 

Returned the Chief his haughty stare, 

His back against a rock he bore, 

And firmly placed his foot before : — 

'Come one, come all! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as I.' 235 

Sir Roderick marked, — and in his eyes 

Respect was mingled with surprise, 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foeman worthy of their steel. 

Short space he stood — then waved his hand: 240 

Down sunk the disappearing band; 

Each warrior vanished where he stood, 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood; 

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 

In osiers pale and copses low; 245 

It seemed as if their mother Earth 

Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 

The wind's last breath had tossed in air 

Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 

The next but swept a lone hill-side, 250 



160 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Where heath and fern were waving wide: 

The sun's last glance was glinted back 

From spear and glaive, from targe and jack, — 

The next, all unreflected, shone 

On bracken green and cold gray stone. 255 

XI 

Fitz-James looked round, — yet scarce believed 

The witness that his sight received; 

Such apparition well might seem 

Delusion of a dreadful dream. 

Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 260 

And to his look the Chief replied: 

'Fear naught — nay, that I need not say — 

But — doubt not aught from mine array. , 

Thou art my guest; — I pledged my word 

As far as Coilantogle ford: 265 

Nor would I call a clansman's brand 

For aid against one valiant hand, 

Though on our strife lay every vale 

Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 

So move we on; — I only meant 270 

To show the reed on which you leant, 

Deeming this path you might pursue 

Without a pass from Roderick Dim.' 

They moved; — I said Fitz-James was brave 

As ever knight that belted glaive, 275 

Yet dare not say that now his blood 

Kept on its wont and tempered flood, 

As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 

That seeming lonesome pathway through, 



CANTO FIFTH 161 

Which yet by fearful proof was rife 280 

With lances, that, to take his life, 

Waited but signal from a guide, 

So late dishonored and defied. 

Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 

The vanished guardians of the ground, 285 

And still from copse and heather deep 

Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 

And in the plover's shrilly strain 

The signal whistle heard again. 

Nor breathed he free till far behind 290 

The pass was left; for then they wind 

Along a wide and level green, 

Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 

Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, 

To hide a bonnet or a spear. 295 

XII 

The Chief in silence strode before, 

And reached that torrent's sounding shore, 

Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, 

From Vennachar in silver breaks, 

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 300 

On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 

Where Rome, the Empress of the world, 

Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 

And here his course the Chieftain stayed, 

Threw down his target and his plaid, 305 

And to the Lowland warrior said : 

'Bold Saxon! to his promise just, 

Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. 



162 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 

This head of a rebellious clan, 310 

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, 

Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 

A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 

See, here all vantageless I stand, 315 

Armed like thyself with single brand; 

For this is Coilantogle ford, 

And thou must keep thee with thy sword. 7 

XIII 

The Saxon paused: 'I ne'er delayed, 

When foeman bade me draw my blade; 320 

Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death; 

Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 

And my deep debt for life preserved, 

A better meed have well deserved : 

Can naught but blood our feud atone? 325 

Are there no means? ' — t No, stranger, none ! 

And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — 

The Saxon cause rests on thy steel; 

For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred 

Between the living and the dead: 330 

"Who spills the foremost foeman's life, 

His party conquers in the strife."' 

'Then, by my word,' the Saxon said, 

'The riddle is already read. 

Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 335 

There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. 

Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy; 



CANTO FIFTH 163 

Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 

To James at Stirling let us go, 

When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 340 

Or if the King shall not agree 

To grant thee grace and favor free, 

I plight mine honor, oath, and word 

That, to thy native strengths restored, 

With each advantage shalt thou stand 345 

That aids thee now to guard thy land/ 

XIV 

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye : 

1 Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 

Because a wretched kern ye slew, 

Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? 350 

He yields not, he, to man nor Fate! 

Thou add'st but fuel to my hate; — 

My clansman's blood demands revenge. 

Not yet prepared? — By heaven, I change 

My thought, and hold thy valor light 355 

As that of some vain carpet knight, 

Who ill deserved my courteous care, 

And whose best boast is but to wear 

A braid of his fair lady's hair.' 

'I thank thee, Roderick, for the word! 360 

It nerves my heart, it steels my sword; 

For I have sworn this braid to stain 

In the best blood that warms thy vein. 

Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone! — 

Yet think not that by thee alone, 365 

Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown; 



164 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, 

Start at my whistle clansmen stern, 

Of this small horn one feeble blast 

Would fearful odds against thee cast. 370 

But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt — 

We try this quarrel hilt to hilt/ 

Then each at once his falchion drew, 

Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 

Each looks to sun and stream and plain 375 

As what they ne'er might see again; 

Then foot and point and eye opposed, 

In dubious strife they darkly closed. 

XV 

111 fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 

That on the field his targe he threw, 380 

Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 

Had death so often dashed aside; 

For, trained abroad his arms to wield, 

Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 

He practised every pass and ward, 385 

To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; 

While less expert, though stronger far, 

The Gael maintained unequal war. 

Three times in closing strife they stood, 

And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood; 390 

No stinted draught, no scanty tide, 

The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 

Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, 

And showered his blows like wintry rain; 

And, as firm rock or castle-roof 395 



CANTO FIFTH 165 

Against the winter shower is proof, 

The foe, invulnerable still, 

Foiled his wild rage by steady skill; 

Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 

Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 400 

And backward borne upon the lea, 

Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 

XVI 

'Now yield thee, or by Him who made 

The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!' 

'Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! 405 

Let recreant yield, who fears to die.' 

Like adder darting from his coil, 

Like wolf that dashes through the toil, 

Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 

Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung; 410 

Received, but recked not of a wound, 

And locked his arms his foeman round. — 

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! 

No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! 

That desperate grasp thy frame might feel 415 

Through bars of brass and triple steel! 

They tug, they strain! down, down they go, 

The Gael above, Fitz-James below. 

The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed, 

His knee was planted on his breast; 420 

His clotted locks he backward threw, 

Across his brow his hand he drew, 

From blood and mist to clear his sight, 

Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright! 



166 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

But hate and fury ill supplied 425 

The stream of life's exhausted tide, 

And all too late the advantage came, 

To turn the odds of deadly game: 

For, while the dagger gleamed on high, 

Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye 430 

Down came the blow! but in the heath 

The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 

The struggling foe may now unclasp 

The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp; 

Unwounded from the dreadful close, 435 

But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 

XVII 

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, 

Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife; 

Next on his foe his look he cast, 

Whose every gasp appeared his last; 440 

In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, — 

'Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid; 

Yet with thy foe must die, or live, 

The praise that faith and valor give/ 

With that he blew a bugle note, 445 

Undid the collar from his throat, 

Unbonneted, and by the wave 

Sat down his brow and hands to lave. 

Then faint afar are heard the feet 

Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet; 450 

The sounds increase, and now are seen 

Four mounted squires in Lincoln green; 

Two who bear lance, and two who lead 



CANTO FIFTH 167 

By loosened rein a saddled steed; 

Each onward held his headlong course, 455 

And by Fitz-James reined up his horse, — 

With wonder viewed the bloody spot, — 

' Exclaim not, gallants! question not. — 

You, Herbert and Luffness, alight, 

And bind the wounds of yonder knight; 460 

Let the gray palfrey bear his weight, 

We destined for a fairer freight, 

And bring him on to Stirling straight; 

I will before at better speed, 

To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 465 

The sun rides high; — I must be boune 

To see the archer-game at noon; 

But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 

De Vaux and Herries, follow me. 

XVIII 

' Stand, Bayard, stand !' — the steed obeyed, 470 

With arching neck and bended head, 

And glancing eye and quivering ear, 

As if he loved his lord to hear. 

No foot Fitz-James in stirrup stayed, 

No grasp upon the saddle laid, 475 

But wreathed his left hand in the mane, 

And lightly bounded from the plain, 

Turned on the horse his armed heel, 

And stirred his courage with the steel. 

Bounded the fiery steed in air, 480 

The rider sat erect and fair, 

Then like a bolt from steel crossbow 



168 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Forth launched, along the plain they go. 

They dashed that rapid torrent through, 

And up Carhonie's hill they flew; 485 

Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, 

His merrymen followed as they might. 

Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, 

And in the race they mock thy tide; 

Torry and Lendrick now are past, 490 

And Deanstown lies behind them cast; 

They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, 

They sink in distant woodland soon; 

Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, 

They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre; 495 

They mark just glance and disappear 

The lofty brow of ancient Kier; 

They bathe their courser's sweltering sides, 

Dark Forth! amid thy sluggish tides, 

And on the opposing shore take ground, 500 

With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 

Right-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-Forth! 

And soon the bulwark of the North, 

Gray Stirling, with her towers and town, 

Upon their fleet career looked down. 505 

XIX 

As up the flinty path they strained, 

Sudden his steed the leader reined; 

A signal to his squire he flung, 

Who instant to his stirrup sprung : — 

'Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray, 510 

Who townward holds the rocky way, 



CANTO FIFTH 169 

Of stature tall and poor array? 

Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, 

With which he scales the mountain-side? 

Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom?' 515 

'No, by my word; — a burly groom 

He seems, who in the field or chase 

A baron's train would nobly grace — ' 

'Out, out, De Vaux! can fear supply, 

And jealousy, no sharper eye? 520 

Afar, ere to the hill he drew, 

That stately form and step I knew; 

Like form in Scotland is not seen, 

Treads not such step on Scottish green. 

'T is James of Douglas, by Saint Serle! 525 

The uncle of the banished Earl. 

Away, away, to court, to show 

The near approach of dreaded foe : 

The King must stand upon his guard; 

Douglas and he must meet prepared/ 530 

Then right-hand wheeled their steeds, and straight 

They won the Castle's postern gate. 

XX 

The Douglas, who had bent his way 

From Cambus-kenneth's abbey gray, 

Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf, 535 

Held sad communion with himself: — 

6 Yes! all is true my fears could frame; 

A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, 

And fiery Roderick soon will feel 

The vengeance of the royal steeL 540 



170 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

I, only I, can ward their fate, — 

God grant the ransom come not late! 

The Abbess hath her promise given, 

My child shall be the bride of Heaven; — 

Be pardoned one repining tear! 545 

For He who gave her knows how dear, 

How excellent! — but that is by, 

And now my business is — to die. — 

Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 

A Douglas by his sovereign bled; 550 

And thou, O sad and fatal mound! 

That oft hast heard the death-axe sound, 

As on the noblest of the land 

Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, — 

The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 555 

Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom ! 

But hark! what blithe and jolly peal 

Makes the Franciscan steeple reel? 

And see! upon the crowded street, 

In motley groups what masquers meet! 560 

Banner and pageant, pipe and drum, 

And merry morrice-dancers come. 

I guess, by all this quaint array, 

The burghers hold their sports to-day. 

James will be there; he loves such show, 565 

Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 

And the tough wrestler foils his foe, 

As well as where, in proud career, 

The high-born tilter shivers spear. 

I '11 follow to the Castle-park, 570 

And play my prize; — King James shall mark 



CANTO FIFTH 171 

If age has tamed these sinews stark, 
Whose force so oft in happier days 
His boyish wonder loved to praise/ 

XXI 

The Castle gates were open flung, 575 

The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung, 

And echoed loud the flinty street 

Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, 

As slowly down the steep descent 

Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, 580 

While all along the crowded way 

Was jubilee and loud huzza. 

And ever James was bending low 

To his white jennet's saddle-bow, 

Doffing his cap to city dame, 585 

Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. 

And well the simperer might be vain, — 

He chose the fairest of the train. 

Gravely he greets each city sire, 

Commends each pageant's quaint attire, 590 

Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, 

And smiles and nods upon the crowd, 

Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, — 

'Long live the Commons' King, King James!' 

Behind the King thronged peer and knight, 595 

And noble dame and damsel bright, 

Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay 

Of the steep street and crowded way. 

But in the train you might discern 

Dark lowering brow and visage stern; 600 



172 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

There nobles mourned their pride restrained, 

And the mean burgher's joys disdained; 

And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, 

Were each from home a banished man, 

There thought upon their own gray tower, 605 

Their waving woods, their feudal power, 

And deemed themselves a shameful part 

Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 

XXII 

Now, in the Castle-park, drew out 

Their checkered bands the joyous rout. 610 

There morricers, with bell at heel 

And blade in hand, their mazes wheel; 

But chief, beside the butts, there stand 

Bold Robin Hood and all his band, — 

Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, 615 

Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, 

Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone, 

Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John; 

Their bugles challenge all that will, 

In archery to prove their skill. 620 

The Douglas bent a bow of might, — - 

His first shaft centred in the white, 

And when in turn he shot again, 

His second split the first in twain, 

From the King's hand must Douglas take 625 

A silver dart, the archers' stake; 

Fondly he watched, with watery eye, 

Some answering glance of sympathy, — 

No kind emotion made reply! 



CANTO FIFTH 173 

Indifferent as to archer wight, 630 

The monarch gave the arrow bright. 

XXIII 

Now, clear the ring! for, hand to hand, 

The manly wrestlers take their stand. 

Two o'er the rest superior rose, 

And proud demanded mightier foes, — 635 

Nor called in vain, for Douglas came. — 

For life is Hugh of Larbert lame; 

Scarce better John of Alloa's fare, 

Whom senseless home his comrades bare. 

Prize of the wrestling match, the King 640 

To Douglas gave a golden ring, 

While coldly glanced his eye of blue, 

As frozen drop of wintry dew. 

Douglas would speak, but in his breast 

His struggling soul his words suppressed; 645 

Indignant then he turned him where 

Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, 

To hurl the massive bar in air. 

When each his utmost strength had shown, 

The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 650 

From its deep bed, then heaved it high, 

And sent the fragment through the sky 

A rood beyond the farthest mark; 

And still in Stirling's royal park, 

The gray-haired sires, who know the past, 655 

To strangers point the Douglas cast, 

And moralize on the decay 

Of Scottish strength in modern day. 



174 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

XXIV 

The vale with loud applauses rang, 

The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang. 660 

The King, with look unmoved, bestowed 

A purse well filled with pieces broad. 

Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, 

And threw the gold among the crowd, 

Who now with anxious wonder scan, 665 

And sharper glance, the dark gray man; 

Till whispers rose among the throng, 

That heart so free, and hand so strong, 

Must to the Douglas blood belong. 

The old men marked and shook the head, 670 

To see his hair with silver spread, 

And winked aside, and told each son 

Of feats upon the English done, 

Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 

Was exiled from his native land. 675 

The women praised his stately form, 

Though wrecked by many a winter's storm; 

The youth with awe and wonder saw 

His strength surpassing Nature's law. 

Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd, 680 

Till murmurs rose to clamors loud. 

But not a glance from that proud ring 

Of peers who circled round the King 

With Douglas held communion kind, 

Or called the banished man to mind; 685 

No, not from those who at the chase 

Once held his side the honored place, 

Begirt his board, and in the field 



CANTO FIFTH 175 

Found safety underneath his shield; 

For he whom royal eyes disown, 690 

When was his form to courtiers known! 

XXV 

The Monarch saw the gambols flag, 

And bade let loose a gallant stag, 

Whose pride, the holiday to crown, 

Two favorite greyhounds should pull down, 695 

That venison free and Bourdeaux wine 

Might serve the archery to dine. 

But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 

Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, 

The fleetest hound in all the North, — 700 

Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 

She left the royal hounds midway, 

And dashing on the antlered prey, 

Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank, 

And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 705 

The King's stout huntsman saw the sport 

By strange intruder broken short, 

Came up, and with his leash unbound 

In anger struck the noble hound. 

The Douglas had endured, that morn, 710 

The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, 

And last, and worst to spirit proud, 

Had borne the pity of the crowd; 

But Lufra had been fondly bred, 

To share his board, to watch his bed, 715 

And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck 

In maiden glee with garlands deck; 



176 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

They were such playmates that with name 

Of Lufra Ellen's image came. 

His stifled wrath is brimming high, 720 

In darkened brow and flashing eye; 

As waves before the bark divide, 

The crowd gave way before his stride; 

Needs but a buffet and no more, 

The groom lies senseless in his gore. 725 

Such blow no other hand could deal, 

Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 

XXVI 

Then clamored loud the royal train, 

And brandished swords and staves amain, 

But stern the Baron's warning : ' Back ! 730 

Back, on your lives, ye menial pack! 

Beware the Douglas. — Yes! behold, 

King James! The Douglas, doomed of old, 

And vainly sought for near and far, 

A victim to atone the war, 735 

A willing victim, now attends, 

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends.' — 

'Thus is my clemency repaid? 

Presumptuous Lord!' the Monarch said: 

1 Of thy misproud ambitious clan, 740 

Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, 

The only man, in whom a foe 

My woman-mercy would not know; 

But shall a Monarch's presence brook 

Injurious blow and haughty look? — 745 

What ho! the Captain of our Guard! 



CANTO FIFTH 111 

Give the offender fitting ward. — 

Break off the sports V — for tumult rose, 

And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — 

6 Break off the sports!' he said and frowned, 750 

'And bid our horsemen clear the ground/ 

XXVII 

Then uproar wild and misarray 

Marred the fair form of festal day. 

The horsemen pricked among the crowd, 

Repelled by threats and insult loud; 755 

To earth are borne the old and weak, 

The timorous fly, the women shriek; 

With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, 

The hardier urge tumultuous war. 

At once round Douglas darkly sweep 760 

The royal spears in circle deep, 

And slowly scale the pathway steep, 

While on the rear in thunder pour 

The rabble with disordered roar. 

With grief the noble Douglas saw 765 

The Commons rise against the law, 

And to the leading soldier said: 

' Sir John of Hyndford, 't was my blade 

That knighthood on thy shoulder laid; 

For that good deed permit me then 770 

A word with these misguided men. — 

XXVIII 

'Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me 
Ye break the bands of fealty. 



178 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

My life, my honor, and my cause, 

I tender free to Scotland's laws. 775 

Are these so weak as must require 

The aid of your misguided ire? 

Or if I suffer causeless wrong, 

Is then my selfish rage so strong, 

My sense of public weal so low, 780 

That, for mean vengeance on a foe, 

Those cords of love I should unbind 

Which knit my country and my kind? 

O no! Believe, in yonder tower 

It will not soothe my captive hour, 785 

To know those spears our foes should dread 

For me in kindred gore are red: 

To know, in fruitless brawl begun, 

For me that mother wails her son, 

For me that widow's mate expires, 790 

For me that orphans weep their sires, 

That patriots mourn insulted laws, 

And curse the Douglas for the cause. 

O let your patience ward such ill, 

And keep your right to love me still V 795 

XXIX 

The crowd's wild fury sunk again 

In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 

With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed 

For blessings on his generous head 

Who for his country felt alone, 800 

And prized her blood beyond his own. 

Old men upon the verge of life 



CANTO FIFTH 179 

Blessed him who stayed the civil strife; 

And mothers held their babes on high, 

The self-devoted Chief to spy, 805 

Triumphant over wrongs and ire, 

To whom the prattlers owed a sire. 

Even the rough soldier's heart was moved; 

As if behind some bier beloved, 

With trailing arms and drooping head, 810 

The Douglas up the hill he led, 

And at the Castle's battled verge, 

With sighs resigned his honored charge. 

XXX 

The offended Monarch rode apart, 

With bitter thought and swelling heart, 815 

And would not now vouchsafe again 

Through Stirling streets to lead his train. 

'O Lennox, who would wish to rule 

This changeling crowd, this common fool? 

Hear'st thou/ he said, 'the loud acclaim 820 

With which they shout the Douglas name? 

With like acclaim the vulgar throat 

Strained for King James their morning note; 

With like acclaim they hailed the day 

When first I broke the Douglas sway; 825 

And like acclaim would Douglas greet 

If he could hurl me from my seat. 

Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, 

Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain? 

Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 830 

And fickle as a changeful dream; 



180 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Fantastic as a woman's mood, 

And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. 

Thou many-headed monster-thing, 

O, who would wish to be thy king? — 835 

XXXI 

'But soft! what messenger of speed 

Spurs hitherward his panting steed? 

I guess his cognizance afar — 

What from our cousin, John of Mar? ' 

'He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 840 

Within the safe and guarded ground; 

For some foul purpose yet unknown, — 

Most sure for evil to the throne, — 

The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 

Has summoned his rebellious crew; 845 

'T is said, in James of Bothwell's aid 

These loose banditti stand arrayed. 

The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune 

To break their muster marched, and soon 

Your Grace will hear of battle fought; 850 

But earnestly the Earl besought, 

Till for such danger he provide, 

With scanty train you will not ride. 7 

XXXII 

'Thou warn'st me I have done amiss, — 

I should have earlier looked to this; 855 

I lost it in this bustling day. — 

Retrace with speed thy former way; 

Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 



CANTO FIFTH 181 

The best of mine shall be thy meed. 

Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 860 

We do forbid the intended war; 

Roderick this morn in single fight 

Was made our prisoner by a knight, 

And Douglas hath himself and cause 

Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 865 

The tidings of their leaders lost 

Will soon dissolve the mountain host, 

Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 

For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. 

Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly!' 870 

He turned his steed, — l My liege, I hie, 

Yet ere I cross this lily lawn 

I fear the broadswords will be drawn.' 

The turf the flying courser spurned, 

And to his towers the King returned. 875 

XXXIII 

111 with King James's mood that day 

Suited gay feast and minstrel lay; 

Soon were dismissed the courtly throng, 

And soon cut short the festal song. 

Nor less upon the saddened town 880 

The evening sunk in sorrow down. 

The burghers spoke of civil jar, 

Of rumored feuds and mountain war, 

Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 

All up in arms; — the Douglas too, 885 

They mourned him pent within the hold, 

1 Where stout Earl William was of old.' — 



182 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And there his word the speaker stayed, 

And finger on his lip he laid, 

Or pointed to his dagger blade. 890 

But jaded horsemen from the west 

At evening to the Castle pressed, 

And busy talkers said they bore 

Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore; 

At noon the deadly fray begun, 895 

And lasted till the set of sun. 

Thus giddy rumor shook the town, 

Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 



CANTO SIXTH 



The Guard-Room 

I 

The sun, awakening, through the smoky air 

Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, 
Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, 

Of sinful man the sad inheritance; 

Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 5 

Scaring the prowling robber to his den; 

Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance, 
And warning student pale to leave his pen, 
And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. 

What various scenes, and O, what scenes of woe, 10 

Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam! 
The fevered patient, from his pallet low, 

Through crowded hospital beholds it stream; 

The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam, 
The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail, 15 

The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream; 
The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, 
Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble 
wail. 



183 



184 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

II 

At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 

With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 20 

While drums with rolling note foretell 

Relief to weary sentinel. 

Through narrow loop and casement barred, 

The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, 

And, struggling with the smoky air, 25 

Deadened the torches' yellow glare. 

In comfortless alliance shone 

The lights through arch of blackened stone, 

And showed wild shapes in garb of war, 

Faces deformed with beard and scar, 30 

All haggard from the midnight watch, 

And fevered with the stern debauch; 

For the oak table's massive board, 

Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, 

And beakers drained, and cups overthrown, 35 

Showed in what sport the night had flown. 

Some, weary, snored on floor and bench; 

Some labored still their thirst to quench; 

Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands 

O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 40 

While round them, or beside them flung, 

At every step their harness rung. 

Ill 

These drew not for their fields the sword, 

Like tenants of a feudal lord, 

Nor owned the patriarchal claim 45 

Of Chieftain in their leader's name; 



CANTO SIXTH 185 

Adventurers they, from far who roved, 

To live by battle which thy loved. 

There the Italian's clouded face, 

The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace; 50 

The mountain-loving Switzer there 

More freely breathed in mountain-air; 

The Fleming there despised the soil 

That paid so ill the laborer's toil; 

Their rolls showed French and German name; 55 

And merry England's exiles came, 

To share, with ill-concealed disdain, 

Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 

All brave in arms, well trained to wield 

The heavy halberd, brand, and shield; 60 

In camps licentious, wild, and bold; 

In pillage fierce and uncontrolled; 

And now, by holytide and feast, 

From rules of discipline released. 

IV 

They held debate of bloody fray, 65 

Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray. 

Fierce was their speech, and mid their words 

Their hands oft grappled to their swords; 

Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 

Of wounded comrades groaning near, 70 

Whose mangled limbs and bodies gored 

Bore token of the mountain sword, 

Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard, 

Their prayers and feverish wails were heard, — 

Sad burden to the ruffian joke, 75 



186 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And savage oath by fury spoke ! — 

At length up started John of Brent, 

A yeoman from the banks of Trent; 

A stranger to respect or fear, 

In peace a chaser of the deer, 80 

In host a hardy mutineer, 

But still the boldest of the crew 

When deed of danger was to do. 

He grieved that day their games cut short, 

And marred the dicer's brawling sport, 85 

And shouted loud, l Renew the bowl! 

And, while a merry catch I troll, 

Let each the buxom chorus bear, 

Like brethren of the brand and spear/ 



soldier's song 

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 90 

Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, 

That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack, 

And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack; 

Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor, 

Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar! 95 

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 
The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip, 
Says that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, 
And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye; 
Yet whoop, Jack! kiss Gillian the quicker, 100 

Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar! 



CANTO SIXTH 187 

Our vicar thus preaches, — and why should he not? 
For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot; 
And 't is right of his office poor laymen to lurch 
Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church. 105 
Yet whoop, bully-boys! off with your liquor, 
Sweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar! 



VI 

The warder's challenge, heard without, 

Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout. 

A soldier to the portal went, — 110 

'Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent; 

And — beat for jubilee the drum! — 

A maid and minstrel with him come/ 

Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred, 

Was entering now the Court of Guard, 115 

A harper with him, and, in plaid 

All muffled close, a mountain maid, 

Who backward shrunk to 'scape the view 

Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 

'What news?' they roared: — 'I only know, 120 

From noon till eve we fought with foe, 

As wild and as untamable 

As the rude mountains where they dwell; 

On both sides store of blood is lost, 

Nor much success can either boast.' — 125 

'But whence thy captives, friend? such spoil 

As IJieirs must needs reward thy toil. 

Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp; 

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp ! 



188 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 130 

The leader of a juggler band/ 

VII 

'No, comrade; — no such fortune mine. 

After the fight these sought our line, 

That aged harper and the girl, 

And, having audience of the Earl, 135 

Mar bade I should purvey them steed, 

And bring them hitherward with speed. 

Forbear your mirth and rude alarm, 

For none shall do them shame or harm.' — 

'Hear ye his boast? 7 cried John of Brent, 140 

Ever to strife and jangling bent; 

' Shall he strike doe beside bur lodge, 

And yet the jealous niggard grudge 

To pay the forester his fee? 

I '11 have my share however it be, 145 

Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee/ 

Bertram his forward step withstood; 

And, burning in his vengeful mood, 

Old Allan, though unfit for strife, 

Laid hand upon his dagger-knife; 150 

But Ellen boldly stepped between, 

And dropped at once the tartan screen: — 

So, from his morning cloud, appears 

The sun of May through summer tears. 

The savage soldiery, amazed, 155 

As on descended angel gazed; 

Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed, 

Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 



CANTO SIXTH 189 

VIII 

Boldly she spoke: ' Soldiers, attend! 

My father was the soldier's friend, 160 

Cheered him in camps, in marches led, 

And with him in the battle bled. 

Not from the valiant or the strong 

Should exile's daughter suffer wrong/ 

Answered De Brent, most forward still 165 

In every feat or good or ill: 

'I shame me of the part I played; 

And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid! 

An outlaw I by forest laws, 

And merry Needwood knows the cause. 170 

Poor Rose, — if Rose be living now/ — 

He wiped his iron eye and brow, — 

'Must bear such age, I think, as thou. — 

Hear ye, my mates! I go to call 

The Captain of our watch to hall: 175 

There lies my halberd on the floor; 

And he that steps my halberd o'er, 

To do the maid injurious part, 

My shaft shall quiver in his heart! 

Beware loose speech, or jesting rough; 180 

Ye all know John de Brent. Enough/ 

IX 

Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 

Of Tullibardine's house he sprung, — 

Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight; 

Gay was his mien, his humor light, 185 



190 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And, though by courtesy controlled, 

Forward his speech, his bearing bold. 

The high-born maiden ill could brook 

The scanning of his curious look 

And dauntless eye: — and yet, in sooth, 190 

Young Lewis was a generous youth; 

But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 

111 suited to the garb and scene, 

Might lightly bear construction strange, 

And give loose fancy scope to range. 195 

1 Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid! 

Come ye to seek a champion's aid, 

On palfrey white, with harper hoar, 

Like errant damosel of yore? 

Does thy high quest a knight require, 200 

Or may the venture suit a squire? ' 

Her dark eye flashed; — she paused and sighed: — 

' O what have I to do with pride ! — 

Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife, 

A suppliant for a father's life, 205 

I crave an audience of the King. 

Behold, to back my suit, a ring, 

The royal pledge of grateful claims, 

Given by the Monarch to Fitz-James.' 



The signet-ring young Lewis took 210 

With deep respect and altered look, 
And said: 'This ring our duties own; 
And pardon, if to worth unknown, 



CANTO SIXTH 191 

In semblance mean obscurely veiled, 

Lady, in aught my folly failed. 215 

Soon as the day flings wide his gates, 

The King shall know what suitor waits. 

t lease you meanwhile in fitting bower 

Repose you till his waking hour; 

Female attendance shall obey 220 

Your hest, for service or array. 

Permit I marshal you the way.' 

But, ere she followed, with the grace 

And open bounty of her race, 

She bade her slender purse be shared 225 

Among the soldiers of the guard. 

The rest with thanks their guerdon took, 

But Brent, with shy and awkward look, 

On the reluctant maiden's hold 

Forced bluntly back the proffered gold : — 230 

' Forgive a haughty English heart, 

And 0, forget its ruder part! 

The vacant purse shall be my share, 

Which in my barret-cap I '11 bear, 

Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 235 

Where gayer crests may keep afar/ 

With thanks — 't was all she could — the maid 

His rugged courtesy repaid. 

XI 

When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 

Allan made suit to John of Brent: — 240 

' My lady safe, O let your grace 

Give me to see my master's face! 



192 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

His minstrel I, — to share his doom 

Bound from the cradle to the tomb. 

Tenth in descent, since first my sires 245 

Waked for his noble house their lyres, 

Nor one of all the race was known 

But prized its weal above their own. 

With the Chiefs birth begins our care; 

Our harp must soothe the infant heir, 250 

Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 

His earliest feat of field or chase; 

In peace, in war, our rank we keep, 

We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, 

Nor leave him till we pour our verse — 255 

A doleful tribute! — o'er his hearse. 

Then let me share his captive lot; 

It is my right, — deny it not ! ' 

1 Little we reck/ said John of Brent, 

'We Southern men, of long descent; 260 

Nor wot we how a name — a word — 

Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : 

Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — 

God bless the house of Beaudesert! 

And, but I loved to drive the deer 265 

More than to guide the laboring steer, 

I had not dwelt an outcast here. 

Come, good old Minstrel, follow me; 

Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see.' 

XII 

Then, from a rusted iron hook, 270 

A bunch of ponderous keys he took, 



CANTO SIXTH 193 

Lighted a torch, and Allan led 

Through grated arch and passage dread. 

Portals they passed, where, deep within, 

Spoke prisoner's moan and fetters' din; 275 

Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored, 

Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword, 

And many a hideous engine grim, 

For wrenching joint and crushing limb, 

By artists formed who deemed it shame 280 

And sin to give their work a name. 

They halted at a low-browed porch, 

And Brent to Allan gave the torch, 

While bolt and chain he backward rolled, 

And made the bar unhasp its hold. 285 

They entered: — 't was a prison-room 

Of stern security and gloom, 

Yet not a dungeon; for the day 

Through lofty gratings found its way, 

And rude and antique garniture 290 

Decked the sad walls and oaken floor, 

Such as the rugged days of old 

Deemed fit for captive noble's hold. 

'Here,' said De Brent, 'thou mayst remain 

Till the Leech visit him again. 295 

Strict is his charge, the warders tell, 

To tend the noble prisoner well.' 

Retiring then the bolt he drew, 

And the lock's murmurs growled anew. 

Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 300 

A captive feebly raised his head; 

The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew — 



194 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhu! 

For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 

They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought. 305 



XIII 

As the tall ship, whose lofty prore 

Shall never stem the billows more, 

Deserted by her gallant band, 

Amid the breakers lies astrand, — 

So on his couch lay Roderick Dhu! 310 

And oft his fevered limbs he threw 

In toss abrupt, as when her sides 

Lie rocking in the advancing tides, 

That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, 

Yet cannot heave her from her seat; — 315 

O, how unlike her course at sea! 

Or his free step on hill and lea! — 

Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, — 

1 What of thy lady? — of my clan? — 

My mother ?— Douglas? — tell me all! 320 

Have they been ruined in my fall? 

Ah, yes! or wherefore art thou here? 

Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear/ — 

For Allan, who his mood well knew, 

Was choked with grief and terror too. — 325 

1 Who fought? — who fled? — Old man, be brief; — 

Some might, — for they had lost their Chief. 

Who basely live? — who bravely died? ' 

'O, calm thee, Chief!' the Minstrel cried, 

' Ellen is safe V 'For that thank Heaven ! ? 330 



CANTO SIXTH 195 

'And hopes are for the Douglas given; — 

The Lady Margaret, too, is well; 

And, for thy clan, — on field or fell, 

Has never harp of minstrel told 

Of combat fought so true and bold. 335 

Thy stately Pine is yet unbent, 

Though many a goodly bough is rent/ 



XIV 

The Chieftain reared his form on high, 

And f ever's fire was in his eye; 

But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 340 

Checkered his swarthy brow and cheeks. 

'Hark, Minstrel! I have heard thee play, 

With measure bold on festal day, 

In yon lone isle, — again where ne'er 

Shall harper play or warrior hear! — 345 

That stirring air that peals on high, 

O'er Dermid's race our victory. — 

Strike it! — and then, — for well thou canst, — 

Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced, 

Fling me the picture of the fight, 350 

When met my clan the Saxon might. 

I '11 listen, till my fancy hears 

The clang of swords, the crash of spears! 

These grates, these walls, shall vanish then 

For the fair field of fighting men, 355 

And my free spirit burst away, 

As if it soared from battle fray.' 

The trembling Bard with awe obeyed, — 



196 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Slow on the harp his hand he laid; 

But soon remembrance of the sight 360 

He witnessed from the mountain's height, 

With what old Bertram told at night, 

Awakened the full power of song, 

And bore him in career along; — 

As shallop launched on river's tide, 365 

That slow and fearful leaves the side, 

But, when it feels the middle stream, 

Driyes downward swift as lightning's beam. 



XV 



BATTLE OF BEAL* AN DUINE 

'The minstrel came once more to view 

The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 370 

For ere he parted he would say 

Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — 

Where shall he find, in foreign land, 

So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — 

There is no breeze upon the fern, 375 

No ripple on the lake, 
Upon her eyry nods the erne, 

The deer has sought the brake; 
The small birds will not sing aloud, 

The springing trout lies still, 380 

So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud, 
That swathes, as with a purple shroud, 
Benledi's distant hill. 



CANTO SIXTH 197 

Is it the thunder's solemn sound 

That mutters deep and dread, 385 

Or echoes from the groaning ground 

The warrior's measured tread? 
Is it the lightning's quivering glance 

That on the thicket streams, 
Or do they flash on spear and lance 390 

The sun's retiring beams? — 
I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
I see the Moray's silver star, 
Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war, 
That up the lake comes winding far! 395 

To hero boune for battle-strife, 

Or bard of martial lay, 
'T were worth ten years of peaceful life, 
One glance at their array! 



XVI 

1 Their light-armed archers far and near 400 

Surveyed the tangled ground, 
Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 

A twilight forest frowned, 
Their barded horsemen in the rear 

The stern battalia crowned. 405 

No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang, 

Still were the pipe and drum; 
Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, 

The sullen march was dumb. 
There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 410 

Or wave their flags abroact; 



198 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake, 

That shadowed o'er their road. 
Their vaward scouts no tidings bring, 

Can rouse no lurking foe, 415 

Nor spy a trace of living thing, 

Save when they stirred the roe; 
The host moves like a deep-sea wave, 
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave, 

High-swelling, dark, and slow. 420 

The lake is passed, and now they gain 
A narrow and a broken plain, 
Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws; 
And here the horse and spearmen pause, 
While, to explore the dangerous glen, 425 

Dive through the pass the archer-men. 



XVII 

'At once there rose so wild a yell 

Within that dark and narrow dell, 

As all the fiends from heaven that fell 

Had pealed the banner-cry of hell! 430 

Forth from the pass in tumult driven, 

Like chaff before the wind of heaven, 
The archery appear: 

For life! for life! their flight they ply — 

And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 435 

And plaids and bonnets waving high, 

And broadswords flashing to the sky, 
Are maddening in the rear. 

Onward they drive in dreadful race, 



CANTO SIXTH 199 

Pursuers and pursued; 440 

Before that tide of flight and chase, 
How shall it keep its rooted place, 

The spearmen's twilight wood? — 
"Down, down/ 7 cried Mar, "your lances down! 

Bear back both friend and foe!" — 445 

Like reeds before the tempest's frown, 
That serried grove of lances brown 

At once lay levelled low; 
And closely shouldering side to side, 
The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 450 

"We' 11 quell the savage mountaineer, 

As their Tinchel cows the game! 
They come as fleet as forest deer, 

We '11 drive them back as tame." 



XVIII 

1 Bearing before them in their course 455 

The relics of the archer force, 

Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, 

Right onward did Clan- Alpine come. 

Above the tide, each broadsword bright 

Was brandishing like beam of light, 460 

Each targe was dark below; 

And with the ocean's mighty swing, 

When heaving to the tempest's wing, 
They hurled them on the foe. 
I heard the lance's shivering crash, 465 

As when the whirlwind rends the ash; 
I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 



200 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

As if a hundred anvils rang! 
But Moray wheeled his rearward rank 
Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank, — 470 

"My banner-man, advance! 
I see," he cried, "their column shake. 
Now, gallants! for your ladies' sake, 

Upon them with the lance!" — 
The horsemen dashed among the rout, 475 

As deer break through the broom; 
Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, 

They soon make lightsome room. 
Clan-Alpine's best are backward borne — 

Where, where was Roderick then! 480 

One blast upon his bugle-horn 

Were worth a thousand men. 
And refluent through the pass of fear 

The battle's tide was poured; 
Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, 485 

Vanished the mountain-sword. 
As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep, 

Receives her roaring linn, 
As the dark caverns of the deep 

Suck the wild whirlpool in, 490 

So did the deep and darksome pass 
Devour the battle's mingled mass; 
None linger now upon the plain, 
Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 



CANTO SIXTH 201 

XIX 

' Now westward rolls the battle's din, 495 

That deep and doubling pass within. — 

Minstrel, away! the work of fate 

Is bearing on; its issue wait, 

Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 

Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. 500 

Gray Benvenue I soon repassed, 

Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 

The sun is set; — the clouds are met, 
The lowering scowl of heaven 

An inky hue of livid blue 505 

To the deep lake has given; 
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. 
I heeded not the eddying surge, 
Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 510 

Mine ear but heard that sullen 'sound, 
Which like an earthquake shook the ground, 
And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
That parts not but with parting life, 
Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 515 

The dirge of many a passing soul. 

Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 

The martial flood disgorged again, 
But not in mingled tide; 

The plaided warriors of the North 520 

High on the mountain thunder forth 
And overhang its side, 

While by the lake below appears 

The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. 



202 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

At weary bay each shattered band, 525 

Eying their foemen, sternly stand; 

Their banners stream like tattered sail, 

That flings its fragments to the gale, 

And broken arms and disarray 

Marked the fell havoc of the day. 530 

XX 

'Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, 
The Saxons stood in sullen trance, 
Till Moray pointed with his lance, 

And cried: " Behold yon isle! — 
See! none are left to guard its strand 535 

But women weak, that wring the hand : 
'T is there of yore the robber band 

Their booty wont to pile; — 
My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, 
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er, 540 

And loose a shallop from the shore. 
Lightly we '11 tame the war-wolf then, 
Lords of his mate, and brood, and den." 
Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung, 
On earth his casque and corselet rung, 545 

He plunged him in the wave: — 
All saw the deed, — the purpose knew, 
And to their clamors Benvenue 

A mingled echo gave; 
The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 550 

The helpless females scream for fear, 
And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
'T was then, as by the outcry riven, 



CANTO SIXTH 203 

Poured down at once the lowering heaven: 

A whirlwind swept Lock Katrine's breast, 555 

Her billows reared their snowy crest. 

Well for the swimmer swelled they high, 

To mar the Highland marksman's eye; 

For round him showered, mid rain and hail, 

The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 560 

In vain. — He nears the isle — and lo ! 

His hand is on a shallop's bow. 

Just then a flash of lightning came, 

It tinged the waves and strand with flame; 

I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, 565 

Behind an oak I saw her stand, 

A naked dirk gleamed in her hand: — 

It darkened, — but amid the moan 

Of waves I heard a dying groan; — 

Another flash! — the spearman floats 570 

A weltering corse beside the boats, 

And the stern matron o'er him stood, 

Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 

XXI 

'"Revenge! revenge!" the Saxons cried, 

The Gael's exulting shout replied. 575 

Despite the elemental rage, 

Again they hurried to engage; 

But, ere they closed in desperate fight, 

Bloody with spurring came a knight, 

Sprung from his horse, and from a crag 580 

Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. 

Clarion and trumpet by his side 



204 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Rung forth a truce-note high and wide, 

While, in the Monarch's name, afar 

A herald's voice forbade the war, 585 

For BothwelPs lord and Roderick bold — 

Were both, he said, in captive hold.' — 

But here the lay made sudden stand, 

The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand! 

Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 590 

How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy: 

At first, the Chieftain, to the chime, 

With lifted hand kept feeble time; 

That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 

Varied his look as changed the song; 595 

At length, no more his deafened ear 

The minstrel melody can hear; 

His face grows sharp, — his hands are clenched, 

As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched; 

Set are his teeth, his fading eye 600 

Is sternly fixed on vacancy; 

Thus, motionless and moanless, drew 

His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu! — 

Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, 

While grim and still his spirit passed; 605 

But when he saw that life was fled, 

He poured his wailing o'er the dead. 

XXII 

LAMENT 

' And art thou cold and lowly laid, 
Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 



CANTO SIXTH 205 

Breadalbane's boast, Clan- Alpine's shade! 610 

For thee shall none a requiem say? — 

For thee, who loved the minstrel's lay, 

For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay, 

The shelter of her exiled line, 

E'en in this prison-house of thine, 615 

F 11 wail for Alpine's honored Pine! 

'What groans shall yonder valleys fill! 

What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill! 

What tears of burning rage shall thrill, 

When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 620 

Thy fall before the race was won, 

Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun! 

There breathes not clansman of thy line, 

But would have given his life for thine. 

O, woe for Alpine's honored pine! 625 

1 Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ! — 

The captive thrush may brook the cage, 

The prisoned eagle dies for rage. 

Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain! 

And, when its notes awake again, 630 

Even she, so long beloved in vain, 

Shall with my harp her voice combine, 

And mix her woe and tears with mine, 

To wail Clan-Alpine's honored Pine.' 

XXIII 

Ellen the while, with bursting heart, 635 

Remained in lordly bower apart r 



206 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Where played, with many-colored gleams 

Through storied pane the rising beams. 

In vain on gilded roof they fall, 

And lightened up a tapestried wall, 640 

And for her use a menial train 

A rich collation spread in vain. 

The banquet proud, the chamber gay, 

Scarce drew one curious glance astray; 

Or if she looked, J t was but to say, 645 

With better omen dawned the day 

In that lone isle, where waved on high 

The dun-deer's hide for canopy; 

Where oft her noble father shared 

The simple meal her care prepared, 650 

While Lufra, crouching by her side, 

Her station claimed with jealous pride, 

And Douglas, bent on woodland game, 

Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, 

Whose answer, oft at random made, 655 

The wandering of his thoughts betrayed. 

Those who such simple joys have known 

Are taught to prize them when they ? re gone. 

But sudden, see, she lifts her head, 

The window seeks with cautious tread. 660 

What distant music has the power 

To win her in this woful hour? 

'T was from a turret that o'erhung 

Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 



CANTO SIXTH 207 

XXIV 

LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN 

'My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 665 

My idle greyhound loathes his food, 

My horse is weary of his stall, 

And I am sick of captive thrall. 

I wish I were as I have been, 

Hunting the hart in forest green, 670 

With bended bow and bloodhound free, 

For that 's the life is meet for me. 

'I hate to learn the ebb of time 

From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, 

Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 675 

Inch after inch, along the wall. 

The lark was wont my matins ring, 

The sable rook my vespers sing; 

These towers, although a king's they be, 

Have not a hall of joy for me. 680 

'No more at dawning morn I rise, 

And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, 

Drive the fleet deer the forest through, 

And homeward wend with evening dew; 

A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 685 

And lay my trophies at her feet, 

While fled the eve on wing of glee, — 

That life is lost to love and me!' 



208 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

XXV 

The heart-sick lay was hardly said, 

The listener had not turned her head, 

It trickled still, the starting tear, 

When light a footstep struck her ear, 

And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was near. 

She turned the hastier, lest again 

The prisoner should renew his strain. 

'O welcome, brave Fitz- James ! ' she said; 

' How may an almost orphan maid 

Pay the deep debt — ' '0 say not so! 

To me no gratitude you owe. 

Not mine, alas! the boon to give, 

And bid thy noble father live; 

I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, 

With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 

No tyrant he, though ire and pride 

May lay his better mood aside. 

Come, Ellen, come ! ? t is more than time, 

He holds his court at morning prime/ 

With beating heart, and bosom wrung, 

As to a brother's arm she clung. 

Gently he dried the falling tear, 

And gently whispered hope and cheer; 

Her faltering steps half led, half stayed, 

Through gallery fair and high arcade, 

Till at his touch its wings of pride 

A portal arch unfolded wide. 



CANTO SIXTH 209 

XXVI 

Within 't was brilliant all and light, 

A thronging scene of figures bright; 

It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight, 

As when the setting sun has given 

Ten thousand hues to summer even, 720 

And from their tissue fancy frames 

Aerial knights and fairy dames. 

Still by Fitz- James her footing staid; 

A few faint steps she forward made, 

Then slow her drooping head she raised, 725 

And fearful round the presence gazed; 

For him she sought who owned this state, 

The dreaded Prince whose will was fate ! — 

She gazed on many a princely port 

Might well have ruled a royal court; 730 

On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 

Then turned bewildered and amazed, 

For all stood bare; and in the room 

Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. 

To him each lady's look was lent, 735 

On him each courtier's eye was bent; 

Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen, 

He stood, in simple Lincoln green, 

The centre of the glittering ring, — 

And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King! 740 

XXVII 

As wreath of snow on mountain-breast 
Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 
Poor Ellen glided from her stay, 



210 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And at the Monarch's feet she lay; 

No word her choking voice commands, — 745 

She showed the ring, — she clasped her hands. 

0, not a moment could he brook, 

The generous Prince, that suppliant look! 

Gently he raised her, — and, the while, 

Checked with a glance the circle's smile; 750 

Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, 

And bade her terrors be dismissed: — 

'Yes, fair; the wandering poor Fitz-James 

The fealty of Scotland claims. 

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring; 755 

He will redeem his signet ring. 

Ask naught for Douglas; — yester even, 

His Prince and he have much forgiven; 

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 

1, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 760 
We would not, to the vulgar crowd, 

Yield what they craved with clamor loud; 

Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 

Our council aided and our laws. 

I stanched thy father's death-feud stern 765 

With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn; 

And BothwelPs Lord henceforth we own 

The friend and bulwark of our throne. — ■ 

But, lovely infidel, how now? 

What clouds thy misbelieving brow? 770 

Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; 

Thou must confirm this doubting maid/ 



CANTO SIXTH 211 

XXVIII 

Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 

And on his neck his daughter hung. 

The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 775 

The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — 

When it can say with godlike voice, 

Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice! 

Yet would not James the general eye 

On nature's raptures long should pry; 780 

He stepped between — i Nay, Douglas, nay, 

Steal not my proselyte away! 

The riddle 't is my right to read, 

That brought this happy chance to speed. 

Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 785 

In life's more low but happier way, 

'T is under name which veils my power, 

Nor falsely veils, — for Stirling's tower 

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, 

And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 790 

Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, 

Thus learn to right the injured cause.' 

Then, in a tone apart and low, — 

'Ah, little traitress! none must know 

What idle dream, what lighter thought, 795 

What vanity full dearly bought, 

Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 

My spell-bound steps to Benvenue 

In dangerous hour, and all but gave 

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive!' 800 

Aloud he spoke: 'Thou still dost hold 

That little talisman of gold, 



212 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Pledge of my faith, Fitz-James's ring, — 
What seeks fair Ellen of the King? ' 

XXIX 

Full well the conscious maiden guessed 805 

He probed the weakness of her breast; 

But with that consciousness there came 

A lightening of her fears for Graeme, 

And more she deemed the Monarch's ire 

Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire 810 

Rebellious broadsword boldly drew; 

And, to her generous feeling true, 

She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. 

' Forbear thy suit; — the King of kings 

Alone can stay life's parting wings. 815 

I know his heart, I know his hand, 

Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand : — 

My fairest earldom would I give 

To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live ! — 

Hast thou no other boon to crave? 820 

No other captive friend to save? ' 

Blushing, she turned her from the King, 

And to the Douglas gave the ring, 

As if she wished her sire to speak 

The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 825 

1 Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 

And stubborn justice holds her course. 

Malcolm, come forth!' — and, at the word, 

Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. 

'For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 830 

From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, 



CANTO SIXTH 213 

Who, nurtured underneath our smile, 

Hast paid our care by treacherous wile, 

And sought amid thy faithful clan 

A refuge for an outlawed man, 835 

Dishonoring thus thy loyal name. — 

Fetters and warder for the Graeme ! ' 

His chain of gold the King unstrung, 

The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, 

Then gently drew the glittering band, 840 

And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 

Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, 
On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; 

In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, 

The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending. 845 

Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending, 

And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy; 

Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending, 

With distant echo from the fold and lea, 

And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. 850 

Yet once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp! 

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, 
And little reck I of the censure sharp 

May idly cavil at an idle lay. 

Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 855 
Through secret woes the world has never known, 

When on the weary night dawned wearier day, 
And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. — 
That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress! is thine own. 



214 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Hark! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 860 

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string! 
? T is now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 

'T is now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 

Receding now the dying numbers ring 
Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell; 865 

And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 
A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — 
And now, 't is silent all! — Enchantress, fare thee well! 



NOTES 



NOTES 



CANTO FIRST 

35, 1. Harp of the North. A reference to Scottish minstrelsy. 
Each canto is introduced by one or more Spenserian stanzas. In 
these first three stanzas, which serve as an introduction to the whole 
poem, Scott addresses Scottish minstrelsy after the manner of the 
Greek and Latin poets, whose poems began with invocations to the 
Muses. He expresses regret that minstrelsy and the story-telling 
art of the gleemen have disappeared from Scotland. 

2. Saint Fillan's spring. St. Fillan, a Scotch abbot of the seventh 
century ; he is said to have been a favorite saint of Robert Bruce. 

3. Numbers. Verses. 

10. Caledon. Caledonia, Scotland. 

36, 29. Monan. No definite location is knowti. 

31. Glenartney. A glen or valley in Perthshire. It will be found 
interesting to trace on the map the chase in the Trossachs' region. 

33. Benvoirlich. A mountain on the southern side of Lake Earn. 
Ben is a Gaelic word for mountain. 

37, 51. With one brave bound the copse he cleared. A poetical 
arrangement of poetical words. — Brave. Splendid, fine. — Copse. 
Coppice. 

53. Uam-Var. A mountain in Callander. 

66. Falcon. What is the pronunciation? — Cairn. Literally a 
heap of stones; here poetical for crag or peak. 
68. Ken. Sight. 

38, 89. Menteith. The district through which the river Teith 
flows. 

93. Lochard or Aberfoyle. Loch Ard is a small lake near the 
town of Aberfoyle. Consult the map. 

95. Loch Achray. A small lake between Loch Katrine and Loch 
Vennachar. 

97. Benvenue. A very high mountain near Loch Katrine. Cf. 
1. 33. 

39, 103. Cambusmore. Situated on Keltie Water, a few miles 
southeast of Callander. 

217 



218 NOTES 

105. Benledi. On the north side of Loch Vennachar. The 
name means hill of God. 

106. Bochastle. A plain between the Teith and the stream that 
flows out of Loch Vennachar. 

120. Black Saint Hubert's breed. Black hounds, thought to be 
particularly acceptable to St. Hubert, the patron saint of hunting. 
123. All but won. Very nearly won. 
127. Quarry. The hunted animal; a technical term. 

40, 138. Whinyard. A short sword, a cutlass. 

145. Trosachs. Trossachs (the more modern spelling) means 
literally country, the Scottish or Gaelic name applied to the valley 
lying between Lochs Achray and Katrine. At the present time one 
of the delightful coaching trips on the British Isles is made through 
this territory. 

41, 166. Woe worth the chase, etc. What is the grammatical 
construction here? 

174. Dingle. Meaning? 
180. Hied. Hastened. 

42, 196. Huge as the tower. Tower of Babel; Genesis, XI, 1-9. 

201. Minaret. A slender tower on a Mohammedan mosque or 
temple. 

202. Pagod. Pagoda. 

43, 229. Athwart. Crosswise. 

45, 274. Wildering. Perplexing, bewildering. 
285. Cloister. Convent. 

293. Matins. Morning prayers. 

297. Bead. The old Anglo-Saxon word meaning prayer. 

46, 302. Beshrew. Curse. 

313. Highland plunderers. The clans who inhabited the regions 
around Loch Katrine were, up to a late period, in the habit of plun- 
dering and pillaging their Lowland neighbors. It was considered not 
only lawful, but honorable, for hostile tribes to plunder one another. 

318. Falchion. A sword. 

47, 344. A Naiad or a Grace. The Naiads were the nymphs of 
the fountains, lakes, and rivers, i.e., water nymphs. The Graces 
were the attendants to Venus and were three in number, character- 
izing grace, beauty, and joy. 

48, 363. Snood. A ribbon used by the Scottish maidens in 
binding the hair. At marriage it was exchanged for the coif. 

51, 438. A couch was pulled for you. The materials of the 
couch, broken and fragrant heather, were pulled. 

440. Ptarmigan. A kind of quail which is brown in summer, but 
turns white, or nearly so, in winter. 

443. Rood. Cross, crucifix. 

458. Old Allan-bane foretold. A reference to the superstitions 
of the old Scotch, who believed implicitly in the poems of divination. 



NOTES 219 

464. Lincoln green. A hunting cloth made in Lincoln. 

52, 475. Errant-knight. A knight wandering in search of ad- 
venture. 

478. Emprise. Enterprise. 

53, 504. For retreat, etc. "The Celtic chieftains, whose lives 
were continually exposed to peril, had usually in the most retired 
spot of their domain some place of retreat for the hour of necessity 
which, as circumstances would admit, was a tower, a cavern, or a 
rustic hut in a strong and secluded situation." — Scott. 

54, 525. Idaean vine. A reference to Mt. Ida near the ancient 
city of Troy, famous for its vines. 

546. Target. A shield. 

55, 573. Ferragus or Ascabart. Two giants who figure in medie- 
val romance. 

56, 580. Though more than kindred knew. Though "a mother's 
due " was more than kinship warranted. 

591. Fitz- James. Fitz from Latin filius, meaning son. 
596. God wot. God knew. 

57, 619. Spells. Enchantments produced by magical formulae. 

58, 638. Pibroch. A highland air played upon bagpipes. 

641. Fallow. Unplowed land. 

642. Bittern. A waterfowl. 

657. Reveille. The morning signal for soldiers to get up. 

61, 729. Exiled race. The Douglases were hated thoroughly by 
the young King James V because of the Earl of Angus who, having 
married the mother of James V, had sought to make himself the 
virtual ruler of Scotland. 

738. Orisons. Prayers. 

CANTO SECOND 

62, 7. A minstrel gray. "The minstrel was a necessary family 
officer retained until a late period by Highland chieftains." 

63, 29. Plaided. The characteristic costume of the Scottish 
Highlanders. 

66, 109. Graeme. The powerful and ancient family of Graham. 
"The ancient and powerful family of Graham (which for metrical 
reasons is here spelt after the Scottish pronunciation) held extensive 
possessions in the counties of Dumbarton and Sterling. Few fam- 
ilies can boast of more historical renown, having claim to three of 
the most remarkable characters in Scottish annals. Sir John 
Graeme, the faithful and undaunted partaker of the labor and 
patriotic warfare of Wallace, fell in the unfortunate field of Falkirk 
in 1298. The celebrated Marquis of Montrose, in whom De Retz 
saw realized his abstract idea of the heroes of antiquity, was the 
second of these worthies. And notwithstanding the severity of his 



220 NOTES 

temper and the rigor with which he executed the oppressive mandates 
of the princes whom he served, I do not hesitate to name as the third, 
John Graeme, of Claverhouse, Viscount of Dundee, whose heroic 
death, in the arms of victory, may be allowed to cancel the memory 
of his cruelty to the nonconformists, during the reigns of Charles II 
and James II." — Scott. 

131. Erst. Formerly. — Saint Modan. A Scotch abbot of the 
seventh century. There is no proof that he had particular 
musical proficiency. 

68, 166. Native virtue great. Ellen's father is great in the fact 
that misfortune and banishment cannot overwhelm him. 

170. Reave. Tear away. 

69, 200. Lady of the Bleeding Heart. The bleeding heart was 
the emblem of the Douglas family, so that now Ellen may be identi- 
fied as a member of that family. Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, 
had married Margaret Tudor, mother of James V. When young, 
the king had been held in such subjection that he hated the very 
name of Douglas, and, having escaped from their power, he banished 
every one of them. 

206. Strathspey. A Highland dance. 

216. Lennox foray. A raid into the Lennox country, i.e., the 
territory belonging to the Lennox family, which borders the lower 
end of Loch Lomond. 

70, 220. Black Sir Roderick. " Besides his ordinary name and 
surname, which were chiefly used in the intercourse with the Low- 
lands, every Highland chief had an epithet expressive of his patri- 
archal dignity as head of the clan and which was common to all his 
predecessors and successors, as Pharaoh to the kings of Egypt or 
Arsaces to those of Parthia. This name was usually a patronymic 
expressive of his descent from the founder of the family. Besides 
this title, which belonged to his office and dignity, the chieftain had 
usually another peculiar to himself, which distinguished him from 
the chieftains of the same race. This was sometimes derived from 
complexion, as dhu or roy; sometimes from size, as beg or more; at 
other times from some peculiar exploit or from some peculiarity of 
habit or appearance. Roderick Dhu, therefore, signifies Black 
Roderick." — Scott. 

221. Holy-Rood. The royal palace at Edinburgh. 

230. Disowned by every noble peer. "The exiled state of this 
powerful race is not exaggerated in this and subsequent passages. 
The hatred of James against the race of Douglas was so inveterate 
that, numerous as their allies were and disregarded as the regal 
authority had usually been in similar cases, their nearest friends, 
even in the most remote part of Scotland, durst not entertain them, 
unless under the strictest and closest disguise. James Douglas, son 
of the banished Earl of Angus, afterwards well known by the title of 



NOTES 221 

Earl of Morton, lurked, during the exile of his family, in the north 
of Scotland under the assumed name of James Innes, otherwise 
James the Grieve (i.e., Reve or Bailiff). 'And as he bore the name,' 
says Godscrof t, ' so did he also execute the office of a grieve or over- 
seer of the lands and rents, the corn and cattle of him with whom 
he lived.' From the habits of frugality and observation which he 
acquired in his humble situation, the historian traces the intimate 
acquaintance with popular character which enabled him to rise so 
high in the state, and that honorable economy by which he repaired 
and established the shattered estates of Angus and Morton." — 
Scott. 

235, Guerdon. Reward. 

236. Dispensation. Roderick could not marry his cousin Ellen 
without a dispensation, or special permission, from the Pope. 

71, 254. Shrouds. Protects. 

260. Votaress. A woman devoted to any particular service or 
work. — Maronnan. At the eastern extremity of Loch Lomond, in 
the parish Kilmoronock, is a small cell or chapel dedicated to St. 
Maronnan. Ellen will become a nun before she will marry Roderick. 

270. Bracklinn. A mountain cataract near the village of Cal- 
lander. 

73, 303. Tine-man. " Archibald, the third Earl of Douglas, was 
so unfortunate in all his enterprises that he acquired the epithet of 
Tine-man, because he lined, or lost, his followers in every battle 
which he fought." — Scott. 

308. Hotspur's bows. Douglas formed an alliance with the 
English bowmen under Percy, or Hotspur. The reference is to the 
alliance of Scotch spearmen and English bowmen. The story of 
the rebellion has been told by Shakespeare in his Henry IV. 

319. Beltane game. May-day festivities. 

330. Pibroch. Cf. Canto I, 638. 

74, 335. Glengyle. The glen, or valley, at the western extremity 
of Loch Katrine. 

337. Brianchoil. A point on the southern side of the lake. 

343. Tartans brave. Showy plaids. 

345. Bonnets. The Scotch cap worn by men. 

351. Chanters. The tubes of the bagpipe. 

75, 362. Gathering. The war cry or gathering word of the clan; 
the slogan. 

373. Mimic din. The din of battle imitated by the bagpipes. 

76, 392. With measured sweep, etc. The rowers sang the chorus 
(burden) so that the rowing and the singing kept time, the strokes of 
the oar marking the beats in the rhythm of the song. 

405. Bourgeon. To bud, sprout. 

408. Roderigh Vich Alpine. Cf . Canto II, 220. Black Roderick 
of the family of Alpine. Dhu in Gaelic is black; Vich is son of. 



222 NOTES 

410. Beltane. Whitsuntide, the festival held on the first day of 
May. Cf. Canto III, 319. 

77, 416. Menteith, Breadalbane. Districts north of Loch 
Lomond. 

8o, 497. Percy's Norman pennon. Captured by the Douglas in 
a raid. 

504. Waned crescent. The cognizance of the house of Buc- 
cleuch, which had endeavored to set the king free from the Douglases. 
The failure to accomplish this accounts for the waning crescent. Cf. 
Canto V, 838. 

506. Blantyre. A priory near Bothwell Castle. 

8i, 525. Unhooded. Falcons were kept with their heads hooded, 
the uncovering of their heads being the signal for flight. 

527. Goddess of the wood. Diana. 

541. Ptarmigan. Cf. Canto I, 440. 

82, 574. Glenfinlas. A wooded valley east of Ben-an. 

83, 583. Strath-Endrick glen. A valley watered by the Endrick, 
which flows into Loch Lomond. 

606. Glozing. Glossing over. 

84, 616. Tamed the Border-side. "In 1529 James made a con- 
vention at Edinburgh for the purpose of considering the best mode 
of quelling the Border robbers who, during the license of his minority 
and the troubles which followed, had committed many exorbitances." 
— Scott. 

James scoured Ettrick Forest and put to death many of the leaders 
of the bandits, particularly one Johnnie Armstrong who came out 
to meet him. 

623-626. Meggat, Yarrow, etc. Streams flowing into the Tweed. 

638. Streight. Difficulty, emergency. 

86, 678. Links of Forth. The vale of Forth below Stirling. 
Links refers to the windings of a river. 

684. Signs. What were the signs? 

87, 708. Astound. Astounded. 
718. Hectic. Habitual. 

88, 747. Nighted. Benighted. 

89, 757. Checkered shroud. His tartan plaid. 

90, 804. Fell. A moor. 

805. Nor lackey with his freeborn clan. Roderick will not win 
the king's favor by serving him as lackey or footman. 

809. Henchman. "This officer is a sort of secretary, and is to 
be ready upon all occasions to venture his life in defense of his master; 
and at drinking bouts he stands behind his seat, at his haunch, from 
which his title is derived, and watches the conversation to see if any 
one offends his patron." — Scott. 



NOTES 223 



CANTO THIRD 

93, 18. Fiery Cross. " When a chieftain designed to summon his 
clan, upon any sudden or important emergency, he slew a goat, and 
making a cross of any light wood, seared its extremities in the fire, 
and extinguished them in the blood of the animal. This was called 
the Fiery Cross, also Cream Tarigh, or the Cross of Shame, because 
disobedience to what the symbol implied inferred infamy. It was 
delivered to a swift and trusty messenger, who ran full speed with it 
to the next hamlet, where he presented it to the principal person, 
with a single word, implying the place of rendezvous. He who 
received the symbol was bound to send it forward, with equal dis- 
patch, to the next village; and thus it passed with incredible celerity 
through all the district which owed allegiance to the chief, and also 
among his allies and neighbors, if the danger was common to them. 
At sight of the Fiery Cross, every man, from sixteen years old to 
sixty, capable of bearing arms, was obliged instantly to repair, in 
his best arms and accoutrements, to the place of rendezvous. He 
who failed to appear, suffered the extremities of fire and sword, 
which were emblematically denounced to the disobedient by the 
bloody and burnt marks upon this warlike signal. During the civil 
war of 1745-1746, the Fiery Cross often made its circuit; and upon 
one occasion it passed through the whole district of Breadalbane, a 
tract of thirty-two miles, in three hours." — Scott. 

94, 39. Cushat dove. Ring dove, wood pigeon. 

46. Impatient blade. The quality belonging to the owner is, by 
a kind of personification, transferred to the blade itself. 

95, 62. Rowan. Mountain ash. 

71. That monk, etc. "The state of religion in the Middle Ages 
afforded considerable facilities for those whose mode of life excluded 
them from regular worship, to secure, nevertheless, the ghostly 
assistance of confessors, perfectly willing to adapt the nature of 
their doctrine to the necessities and peculiar circumstances of their 
flock. Robin Hood, it is well known, had his celebrated domestic 
chaplain, Friar Tuck." — Scott. 

74. Benharrow. A mountain near Loch Lomond. 

96, 76. Druid. The Druids were priests of the Celtic inhabi- 
tants of Britain. They worshiped in forests, regarding the oak and 
the mistletoe as sacred, and offered human sacrifices. 

87. Strath. A valley of some size through which a river runs. 
A strath is to be distinguished from a glen, a narrow valley through 
which a small stream flows. 

99. Knot-grass. A kind of weedy grass. 

104. Fieldfare. A thrush. 

98, 138. Sable-lettered page. Black lettered, because old Eng- 
lish manuscripts were written in heavy-faced type. 



224 NOTES 

142. Cabala. An interpretation of the Scriptures by the method 
of finding concealed meanings. 

154. River Demon. "The river demon, or river horse, for it is 
that form which he commonly assumes, is the Kelpy of the Low- 
lands, an evil and malicious spirit, delighting to forebode and to 
witness calamity." — Scott. 

99, 168. Ben-Shie. "Most great families in the Highlands were 
supposed to have a tutelar, or rather a domestic spirit, attached to 
them, who took an interest in their prosperity and intimated by its 
wailings any approaching disaster. Ben-Shie implies a female fairy, 
whose lamentations were often supposed to precede the death of a 
chieftain of particular families." — Scott. 

169. Sounds, too, had come. "A presage of the kind alluded to 
in the text is still believed to announce death to the ancient High- 
land family of M'Lean of Lochbuy. The spirit of an ancestor 
slain in battle is heard to gallop along a stony bank, and then to 
ride thrice around the family residence, ringing his fairy bridle, and 
thus intimating the approaching calamity. How easily the eye as 
well as the ear may be deceived upon such occasions, is evident from 
the stories of armies in the air and other spectral phenomena with 
which history abounds." — Scott. 

171. Shingly. Pebbly. 

189. Cubit's length. The measure of the length of the forearm. 

191. Inch-Cailliach. Isle of Old Women, or Isle of Nuns, a 
beautiful island in the southeastern portion of Loch Lomond, con- 
taining the clan burying ground. 

ioo, 198. Anathema. A curse of the church. 

200. Sepulchral yew. The yew is called sepulchral from its 
somber character, which has led to its use in graveyards. 

212. Strook. Struck. 

ioi, 243. Goshawk. A slender brown hawk. 

102, 253. Coir-Uriskin. A pass on the northern side of Ben- 
venue. 

255. Beala-nam-bo, "or the pass of cattle, is a most magnifi- 
cent glade, overhung with aged birch trees, a little higher up the 
mountain than the Coir-nan-Uriskin." — Scott. 

103, 286. Lanrick mead. The mead or meadow on the north 
side of Loch Vennachar. 

297. Three fathom. How wide would this be? 

104, 310. Scaur. Cliff. 

105, 344. Bosky. Woody, bushy. 

349. Duncraggan. A farm or hamlet between Achray and 
Vennachar. 

106, 369. Coronach. Funeral song. "The Coronach of the 
Highlanders was a wild expression of lamentation, poured forth by 
the mourners over the body of a departed friend. When the words 



NOTES 225 

oHt were articulate, they expressed the praises of the deceased, and 
the loss the clan would sustain by his death." — Scott. 

386. Correi. The hollow side of a hill, the side where game 
usually lies. 

387. Cumber. Trouble, perplexity. 

107, 394. Stumah. Meaning faithful when applied to a dog; cf . Fido. 

108, 439. Hest. Behest. 
445. Targe. Target, shield. 

109, 453. Strath-Ire. The valley above Loch Lubnaig, watered 
by the Teith in its upper reaches. 

461. The chapel of Saint Bride. Scott says that this chapel 
stood on a small and romantic knoll in the middle of the valley 
called Strath-Ire. 

no, 485, Coif-clad. The Scottish maiden at her marriage ex- 
changed the snood for the coif. 

ii2,546. Bracken. Large ferns. 

113, 570. Balquidder. The braes of Balquidder stretch west- 
ward from the head of Strath-Ire. — The midnight blaze. The 
heath on Scottish moorlands is often set fire to, so that the sheep may 
have the advantage of the young herbage. — Scott. 

577. Coil. Bustle, confusion, tumult. As Hamlet III, i, 68, 
" When we have- shuffled off this mortal coil." 

580. Balvaig. A river flowing from Lochs Voil and Doine. 
Vocative case. 

582. Strath- Gartney. A broad valley on the northern side of 
Loch Katrine. Trace the route of the Cross of Fire, showing that 
it has made a complete circuit of Clan Alpine's lands, having been 
brought back to Loch Katrine, from which it started, after traveling 
a distance of between forty and fifty miles. 

114, 606. Graeme, Bruce. Illustrious Scottish families. 
607-609. Rednock, Cardross, Duchray. Scottish castles. 

610. Loch Con. "Lake of the dogs," two miles south of Loch 
Katrine. 

115, 622. Coir-nan-Uriskin. See Canto III, 253. The den of 
the Urisk or Highland satyr, a steep and romantic hollow in the 
mountain of Benvenue. 

633. Incumbent. Overhanging. 

n8,713. Ave Maria! Hail Mary! This begins the Roman 
Catholic prayer to the Virgin Mary. 

CANTO FOURTH 

iai, 5. Wilding. Wild. 

10. Conceit. Fancy. 

19. Braes of Doune. Hills on the north side of the Teith. 

122, 36. Boune. Prepared. 



226 NOTES 

• 

123, 63. Taghairm. "The Highlanders, like all rude people, had 
various superstitious modes of inquiring into futurity. One of the 
most noted was the Taghairm mentioned in the text. A person was 
wrapped up in the skin of a newly slain bullock, and deposited be- 
side a waterfall or at the bottom of a precipice or in some other 
strange, wild, and unusual situation, where the scenery around him 
suggested nothing but objects of horror. In this situation he 
revolved in his mind the question proposed, and whatever was im- 
pressed upon him by his exalted imagination passed for the inspiration 
of the disembodied spirits who haunt the desolate recesses." — Scott. 

73. Kerns. Foot soldiers of the lowest rank. The heavy 
armed soldiers were called gallow-glasses, as in Macbeth, I, ii, 

"From the western isles 
Of kerns and gallow-glasses is supplied." 

74. Beal 'maha. "The pass of the plain," east of Loch Lomond. 

124, 77. Dennan's Row. The point at which the ascent to 
Loch Lomond commences. 

82. Boss. Protuberance; a knob, projection. 

84. Hero's Targe. This rock is in the woods of Glenfinlas. 

98. Broke. Cut up, quartered. "Everything belonging to the 
chase was matter of solemnity among our ancestors; but nothing 
was more so than the mode of cutting up, or, as it was technically 
called, breaking the slaughtered stag. The forester had his allotted 
portion; the hounds had a certain allowance; and, to make the 
division as general as possible, the very birds had their share also." 
— Scott. 

126, 150. Doune. The castle of Doune, an ancient stronghold of 
the Earls of Menteith, situated on the left bank of the Teith, midway 
between Stirling and Callander. — Glaive. A sword. Latin gladius. 

153. Pale. A heraldic term applied to a band or stripe extend- 
ing from the top to the bottom of a shield. 
157. Boune. Ready. 

127, 160. Earn. District of Loch Earn. 
174. Stance. Foundation. 

186. Fast by. Close to. Cf. Paradise Lost I, ii. 

128, 198. Red Streamers of the north. The northern lights or 
the Aurora Borealis. 

129, 217. Rife. Plentiful. 
223. Trowed. Believed. 

231. Cambus-kenneth's fane. Fane is another word for temple. 
This was an abbey, now in ruins, about a mile east of Stirling. 

130, 262. Mavis and Merle. Thrush and blackbird. 

131, 267. Wold. Open country. 

277. Vest of pall. Mantle of rich material. How do we get the 
modern meaning of pall f 



NOTES 227 

283. Darkling. In the dark. 

285. Vair, The fur of a small animal much resembling a squirrel, 
worn by ladies of rank. 

132, 298. Woned. Lived, dwelt. 

306. Fatal green. "As the Daoine Shi', or Men of Peace, wore 
green habits, they were supposed to take offense when any mortals 
ventured to assume their favorite color. Indeed, from some rea- 
son, which has been, perhaps, originally a general superstition, green 
is held in Scotland to be unlucky to particular tribes and counties. 
. . . More especially is it held fatal to the whole clan of Graham." 
— Scott. 

308. Christened man. "The elves were supposed greatly to 
envy the privileges acquired by Christian initiation, and they gave 
to those mortals who had fallen into their power a certain precedence, 
founded upon this advantageous distinction." — Scott. 

133, 330. Kindly. Kindred. 

134, 358. Durst sign. Dare make the sign of the cross. 

135, 371. Dunfermline. A town on the Firth of Forth not far 
from Edinburgh, the residence of the early kings of Scotland. 

387. Bourne. Boundary. 

136, 392. Augur scathe. Foretell harm. 
398. Serf. Dependant, 

138, 446. As death. As if death. 

471. Lordship the embattled field. His estate, or domain, was 
the battlefield. 
473. Reck of. Care for. 

139, 477. Signet. Signet ring. 

140, 506. Weeds. Clothing, garments. What is the modern 
usage for this word in this sense? 

141, 531-532. Allan, Devan. Two rivers of Perthshire. 

142, 567. Batten. Fatten. 

143, 590-605. The hunters are Clan- Alpine's men, Roderick 
Dhu and his followers. The stag of ten is Fitz- James, for whom the 
snares are laid, and the wounded doe is Blanche herself. 

145, 642. Daggled. Wet, drenched. 
657. Shred. Torn off. 

146, 680. Wreak. Avenge. 

686. Favor. A gift to a knight from his lady, such as a scarf or 
ribbon. 

687. Imbrue. Drench. 

148, 721. Threads the brake. Feels his way cautiously and 
with difficulty through the brake. 

722. Not the summer solstice there. The meaning is that in 
summer at the greatest heat these regions have cold nights. The 
solstice is that point in the ecliptic, or sun's apparent course, at 
which the sun is farthest from the equator and appears to stand 



228 NOTES 

still (Latin sol and sto). The summer solstice is reached on the 
twenty-first of June; the winter solstice on the twenty-second of 
December. 

734. Saxon. The Highlanders called the Lowlanders Shas- 
gunach or Sassenach, that is, Saxons. The name Saxon is of doubt- 
ful etymology, being variously derived from (1) the saks or sax, their 
characteristic weapon; (2) the Sacae, a Scythian tribe (Dr. Danald- 
son); (3) Sexe, seaman or pirates (Dr. Guest); (4) Old German 
sass; Anglo-Saxon saet, an inhabitant, or settler (Adelung). 

746. Slip. Let loose upon the game. 

150, 787. Coilantogle's ford. A ford near the western extremity 
of Loch Vennachar, across the stream which flows from that lake. 

788. Thy warrant is thy sword. Having passed the ford, the 
knight must depend upon his sword, as he would come within the 
territory loyal to the Scottish king and therefore could depend no 
further upon the Highland chief. 

794. Wreath. Applied here to a heap of heather. 



CANTO FIFTH 

151, 10. Sheen. Bright. Now used as a noun, meaning bright- 
ness or splendor, but in Old English scheene, schene, or sheen (bright, 
fair) was used as an adjective. 

"A Cristofer on his brest of silver schene." 
Chaucer, Prologue to Canterbury Tales, 115. 

18. Gael. The Highlander is called Gael, and the Lowlander, as 
before, Saxon. Cf. Canto IV, 734. 

152, 43. Hardihood. Having firmness. (Shakespeare's word is 
hardiment ; Chaucer's is hardynesse.) 

46. Shingles. Gravel. 

153, 51. Osiers. Willow trees. 

*55> 108- Regent. John Stuart, Duke of Albany, was regent 
during the minority of James V. He was not strong enough to 
keep the realm in peace. 

112. Arraignment. Accusation. 

124. Albany. " There is scarcely a more disorderly period of 
Scottish history than that which succeeded the Battle of Flodden, 
and occupied the minority of James V. Feuds of ancient standing 
broke out like old wounds, and every quarrel among the independent 
nobility, which occurred daily and almost hourly, gave rise to fresh 
bloodshed." — Scott. 

125. Truncheon. Scepter. 

126. Mewed. Inexperienced. 

157, 169. Seek other cause 'gainst Roderick Dhu. "So far, 
indeed, was a Creagh, or foray, from being held disgraceful, that a 



NOTES 229 

young chief was always expected to show his talents for command, 
so soon as he assumed it, by leading his clan on a successful enter- 
prise of this nature, either against a neighboring sept, for which 
constant feuds usually furnished an apology, or against the Saxons 
or Lowlanders, for which no apology was necessary. The Gaels, 
great traditional historians, never forgot that the Lowland had, 
at some remote period, been the property of their Celtic forefathers, 
which furnished an ample vindication of all the ravages that they 
could make on the unfortunate districts which lay within their 
reach." — Scott. 

158, 198. Wild as the scream of the curlew. Wild is an ad- 
verb modifying flew. The curlew is a water bird named for its 
cry. 

160, 253. Jack. A padded leather coat of armor worn by 
peasants. 

273. Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. " This incident, like 
some other passages in the poem illustrative of the character of the 
ancient Gael, is not imaginary, but borrowed from fact. The 
Highlanders, with the inconsistency of most nations in the same 
state, were alternately capable of great exertions of generosity, and 
of cruel revenge and perfidy." — Scott. 

161, 298. Three mighty lakes. Katrine, Achray, and Vennachar. 
301. Bochastle. "The torrent which discharges itself from 

Loch Vennachar, the lowest and eastmost of the three lakes which 
form the scenery adjoining to the Trosachs, sweeps through a flat 
and extensive moor called Bochastle. Upon a small eminence called 
the Dun of Bochastle, and, indeed, on the plain itself, are some 
intrenchments which have been thought Roman." — Scott. 

302-3. Rome . . . her eagle wings unfurled. The Romans had 
held the island of Britain before the coming of the Angles, Saxons, 
and Jutes. The eagle was the principal standard of the Roman 
army. 

163, 356. Carpet knight. "A knight who has won his title by 
favoritism in the drawing-room and has not known service in the 
field." 

364. Ruth. Pity. 

164, 380. His targe he threw. "A round target of light wood, 
covered with strong leather, and studded with brass or iron, was a 
necessary part of a Highlander's equipment. In charging regular 
troops, they received the thrust of the bayonet in this buckler, 
twisted it aside, and used the broadsword against the incumbered 
soldier." — Scott. 

383. Abroad. Probably in France, where swordsmanship is a 
great art. 

166, 435. Close. Grapple. 

167, 461. Palfrey. A lady's saddle horse. 



230 NOTES 

1 68, 490-497. Torry, Lendrick, etc. All these places are on the 
banks of the Teith. 

169, 525. 'T is James of Douglas. When Douglas of Kilspindie 
returned from exile to throw himself on the clemency of his former 
pupil, King James, he was recognized in a similar way by the king. 
"As James returned from hunting in the park at Stirling, he saw a 
person at a distance, and, turning to his nobles, exclaimed, 'Yonder 
is my Graysteil, Archibald of Kilspindie.' " 

170, 550. A Douglas by his sovereign bled. William, Earl of 
Douglas, was slain by James II at Stirling in 1452. 

551. Fatal mound. An eminence on the northeast of the 
Castle, where state criminals were executed. It was called "Head- 
ing Hill." 

558. Franciscan steeple. The steeple of Grayfriars' church. 

562. Morrice-dancers. The morrice dance was a dance of 
Moorish origin, in which bells and rattles were introduced. 

564. The burghers hold their sports to-day. "Every burgh in 
Scotland of the least note, but more especially the considerable 
towns, had their solemn play or festival, when feats of archery were 
exhibited, and prizes distributed to those who excelled in wrestling, 
hurling the bar, and the other gymnastic exercises of the period. 
The usual prize to the best shooter was a silver arrow." 

566. Yeoman. A countryman. 

171, 572. If. Whether. 

574. His boyish wonder. When the king was a boy, the Douglas 
had been his tutor in manly sports. 

575. Castle. Stirling Castle. 

584. Jennet. A small Spanish horse. 

594. Commons' King. "James's ready participation in these 
popular amusements was one cause of his acquiring the title ' King 
of the Commons,' or Rex Plebeiorwn, as Lesley has Latinized it." — 
Scott. 

172, 603. Hostage. A person given as security for the perform- 
ance of the conditions of a treaty or of stipulations of any kind. 
On the performance of the specified conditions, the hostage is 
released. 

606. Feudal power. Under the feudal system, the lord had 
power to command the services of his tenants in time of war. 
610. Checkered bands. Groups of gay dresses. 

613. Butts. Targets. 

614. Robin Hood, a noted English outlaw of the time of King 
Richard I. "The exhibition of this renowned outlaw and his band 
was a favorite frolic at such festivals as we are describing. This 
sporting, in which kings did not disdain to be actors, was prohibited 
in Scotland upon the Reformation, by a statute of the Sixth Parlia- 
ment of Queen Mary, which ordered, under heavy penalties, that 



NOTES 231 

*na manner of person be chosen Robert Hude, nor Little John, 
Abbot of Unreason, Queen of May, nor otherwise/ But in 1561 the 
'rascal multitude/ says John Knox, 'were stirred up to make a 
Robin Hude, whilk enormity was of many years left and damned by 
statute and act of Parliament; yet would they not be forbidden/ 
Accordingly they raised a very serious tumult, and at length made 
prisoners the magistrates who endeavored to suppress it, and would 
not release them until they extorted a formal promise that no one 
should be punished for his share of the disturbance. " 

615. Quarterstaff. A long and stout staff formerly used as a 
weapon of offense and defense. 

615-618. Friar Tuck, Old Scathelock, Maid Marian. All com- 
panions of Robin Hood, mentioned in Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe. 

173, 630. Archer wight. Common archer. 
637. Larbert. A town near Stirling. 

174, 660. Ladies' Rock. A small hill near the Castle, from which 
the ladies watched the games. 

176, 740. Misproud. With false pride. See 3 King Henry VI, 
II, v, 7. " Strengthening misproud York." 

177, 747. Ward. Confinement under guard. 

769. Knighthood. Knighthood was conferred by the king, or his 
representative, by a stroke with the flat of the sword on the candi- 
date's shoulder. 

773. Fealty. Loyalty. 

179, 812. Battled verge. At the limits of the battlements. 

180, 838. Cognizance. The distinguishing mark worn by an 
armed knight and sometimes by his dependents. 

847. Banditti. Outlawed robbers. 

181, 868. Vulgar. Common people, used by Shakespeare in this 
sense, in Julius Caesar. 

887. Earl William. The William Douglas mentioned in 1. 550 
of this canto. 

CANTO SIXTH 

183, 3. Caitiff. An unfortunate or wretched man; not, in this 
case, in its opprobrious sense of a despicable fellow. 

9. Kind nurse of men. Sleep. 
15. Gyve. Fetter. 

184, 23. Loop. Loophole for the discharge of arms. 
42. Harness. Equipment. 

185, 47. Adventurers. "The Scottish armies consisted chiefly 
of the nobility and barons, with their vassals, who held lands under 
them for military service by themselves and their tenants. James V 
seems first to have introduced, in addition to the militia furnished 
from these sources, the service of a small number of mercenaries, 



232 NOTES 

who formed a bodyguard, called the Foot-Band. I have chosen to 
give them the harsh features of the mercenary soldiers of the period.' ' 
— Scott. 

51. Switzer. A citizen of Switzerland. 

53. Fleming. An inhabitant of Flanders, now a part of Belgium. 

186, 81. In host. In the army. 
87. Troll. Sing. 

92. Black-jack. A pitcher made of leather. 

93. Sack. A Spanish wine. 

95. Upsees out. To the bottom of the tankard. 
98. Beelzebub. In Paradise Lost, Beelzebub is the chief fol- 
lower of Satan. Here, to be taken as the prince of devils. 

187, 103. Placket and pot. Women and wine. 
104. Lurch. Swindle, outwit. 

111. Ghent. A Flemish city. 

188, 131. Juggler. "The jongleurs, or jugglers, used to call in 
the aid of various assistants to render these performances as capti- 
vating as possible. The glee-maiden was a necessary attendant. 
Her duty was tumbling and dancing. In Scotland these poor 
creatures seem, to a late period, to have been bondswomen to their 
masters. " — Scott. 

136. Purvey. Provide, furnish. 
143. Niggard. Stingy. 

189, 170. Needwood. A royal forest in Staffordshire, England. 
183. Tullibardine 's house. A family of Murray. The earliest 

title of the ducal house of Atholl was Baron Murray of Tullibardine. 
Tullibardine Castle is near Auchterarder in Perthshire. 

190,199. Damosel. A maiden. (French demoiselle, diminutive 
of dame, the mistress of the house. Latin domus.) Spenser in his 
Fairy Queen speaks of the errant damozell. 

191, 234. Barret-cap. Helmet, or battle-cap, made of cloth. 
He puts the purse in his cap as a favor. 

192, 261. Wot. Know, understand. 

193, 285. Unhasp. Unclasp or undo. 
295. Leech. Physician. 

194, 306. Prore. Prow. (Latin prora, from pro, before.) 
309. Astrand. Stranded. 

327. Some might. Some might flee. 

195, 348. Strike it. "It is popularly told of a famous freebooter 
that he composed the tune known as ' MacPherson's Rant/ while 
under sentence of death and played it at the gallows-tree. Some 
spirited words have been adapted to it by Burns." — Scott. 

Carlyle in his Essay on Burns speaks of the 
Rant. 

196, 369. Battle of Beal' an Duine. "A skirmish actually took 
place at a pass thus called in the Trosachs, and closed with the re- 



NOTES 233 

markable incident mentioned in the text. It was greatly posterior 
in date to the reign of James V." — Scott. 

377. Eyry. The nest of a bird that builds in a lofty place. — 
Erne. Eagle. 

197, 404. Barded. Armored. Used only of horses and horsemen. 
405. Battalia. An army in battle array. 

198, 414. Vaward. Vanward or in the vanguard. A body of 
men who ride in front of the main body of the army. 

199, 447. Serried. Crowded together. 

452. Tinchel. "A circle of sportsmen who, by surrounding a 
great space, and gradually narrowing, brought immense quantities 
of deer together, which usually made desperate efforts to break 
through the Tinchel." — Scott. 

200, 483. Refluent. Ebbing. 

202, 538. Wont. Were accustomed. 

539. Bonnet-pieces. Gold coins, on which the king's head was 
represented with a bonnet instead of the usual crown. 
545. Casque and corselet. Helmet and body armor. 

203, 565. Duncraggan's widowed dame. Cf. Canto III," 428, 
et seq. 

204, 602. Thus, etc. "Rob Roy, while on his deathbed, learned 
that a person with whom he was at enmity proposed to visit him. 
' Raise me from my bed,' said the invalid; 'throw my plaid around 
me, and bring me my claymore, dirk, and pistols, — it shall never be 
said that a foeman saw Rob Roy MacGregor defenseless and un- 
armed.' His foeman entered and paid his compliments, inquiring 
after the health of his formidable neighbor. Rob Roy maintained a 
cold, haughty civility during their short conference, and so soon as 
he had left the house, 'Now,' he said, 'all is over — let the piper 
play We Return No More, 1 and he is said to have expired before the 
dirge was finished." — Scott. 

205, 610. Breadalbane. Cf. Canto II, 416. 

631. Even she. That is, Ellen. Cf. Canto II, 748 — 754. 

206, 638. Storied pane. Painted windows on which were de- 
picted historical scenes. Cf . Milton's II Penseroso: 

•'Storied windows richly light." 

207, 665. Tired of perch and hood. The hawk, blinded by a 
hood, was carried about on the hunter's wrist, usually secured by 
some light fastening. When the hood was removed, the falcon 
made his flight. Therefore the phrase means tired of idleness. 

208, 697. An almost orphan. Because she is uncertain of her 
father's fate. Observe the use of almost as an attribute to orphan, 
which is here used as an adjective. 

707. At morning prime. At earliest morning; dawn. Prime 
was literally the first hour of prayer, or 6 a.m. 



234 NOTES 

209, 729. Port. Bearing; carriage. 

740. Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King. " James V was a 
monarch whose good and benevolent intentions often rendered his 
romantic freaks venial, if not respectable, since, from his anxious 
attention to the interests of the lower and most oppressed class of 
his subjects, he was, as we have seen, popularly termed the 'King of 
the Commons.' For the purpose of seeing that justice was regularly 
administered, he used to traverse the vicinage of his several palaces 
in various disguises." — Scott. 

741. Wreath of snow. A snowdrift. Cf. Canto IV, 794. 
2ii, 782. Proselyte. One who is converted. 

785. When disguised I stray. The name which James generally 
assumed in these wanderings was the "Gude-Man (or farmer) of 
Ballangiech." Scott says the two excellent comic songs, entitled 
"The Gaberlunzie Man," and "We'll gae nae mair a Rovin'," are 
said to have been founded on the success of King James's adventures 
when traveling in the disguise of a beggar. "The latter," Scott 
adds, "is perhaps the best comic ballad in any language." 

789. The name of Snowdoun. "William of Worcester, who 
wrote about the middle of the fifteenth century, calls Stirling Castle 
'Snowdoun.' Sir David Lindsay bestows the same epithet upon it." 

212, 813. Grace. Pardon. 

213, 842. Harp of the North, farewell. Cf. introduction of the 
poem, Canto I, 1 — 27. 



QUESTIONS AND TOPICS FOR STUDY 

The Narrative 

i . Give the meaning of the title of the poem, describe the arrange- 
ment of the poem, and show that each canto has a fitting title. 

2. Why should The Lady of the Lake be called a metrical romance? 

3. Explain the meaning of the word canto and show that it has 
an appropriate use here. 

4. Who tells the story? Would it have been more appropriate 
for one of the characters to tell the story? 

5. What device of method has the author used to give a graceful 
finish to the poem? 

6. How are the different characters introduced into the narrative? 

7. Would the story have been as effective if it had begun with a 
description of the region instead of the description of the hunt? 

8. Is there anything which has taken place before the opening of 
the poem that has to be understood for appreciation of the poem? 

9. How are the previous fortunes of the Douglas family narrated? 

10. Explain carefully, by definite reference to the different cantos, 
the poet's use of the supernatural in telling his story. 

11. Point out the features of the Combat Scene which make it 
thoroughly dramatic. 

12. How is the battle of Beal' an Duine described to the reader? 
Do you think this method more or less effective than the ordinary 
method of placing the reader as a witness of the fight? 

13. What difficulty presents itself to a person about to narrate a 
story wholly or in part historical? 

14. Is the action rapid or slow? How is it sometimes retarded? 

15. Show definitely the purpose of the introductions of each canto 
and the songs that appear throughout the poem. 

16. State the effect on you of the Clan- Alpine Boat Song and the 
Coronach. 

17. Which is best in the poem: nature description, plot con- 
struction, character description, or the portrayal of Scottish life and 
customs? 

Setting 

1. From Scott's introduction to the poem, tell of his method of 
making his geographical setting accurate. 

235 



236 QUESTIONS FOR STUDY 

2. From the biography, show where he got his vast store of 
Scotch traditions and superstitions. 

3. Make a map of the section of Perthshire where the scene is 
laid, and show the course of the hunt, starting from Stirling. 

4. What purpose do the nature descriptions serve? 

5. Are the landscape scenes drawn boldly or are they given in 
minute detail? 

6. Show whether Scott keeps closely to the actual geographical 
locations of his scenes. 

7. Give the time and the duration of the action of the poem. 

8. What have you learned concerning manners and customs of 
the people, their hospitality and superstitions? 

9. Select several descriptions of places which seem to you par- 
ticularly good. 

10. Make a list of the words you have found which are especially 
appropriate in describing Scottish scenery. 

11. What historical foundation was there for the story of James 
V's treatment of Douglas? 

12. Do the descriptions of the supernatural seem appropriate to 
the story? Why? 

Plot 

1. Does the poem have real plot, or is it a series of episodes? 

2. Show that the whole narrative depends upon a simple literary 
device. 

3. Show, in a general way, how Scott discloses to the reader the 
reason for Roderick's being an outlaw, the past and present con- 
dition of Douglas, and Ellen's feeling for Malcolm. 

4. What purpose of plot does the Minstrel serve? 

5. How much of the plot must be explained as taking place 
before the actual story begins? 

6. Taking each canto separately, show its purpose with regard to 
the plot, and note particularly in how many cantos the main action 
is told in a single vivid scene. 

Canto First 

1. What purpose does the detailed account of the chase serve in 
developing the plot? 

2. The falling of the sword produces what atmospheric effect 
upon the story? 

3. What key note is struck for the story in the incidents of this 
canto? 

4. At the end of Canto First, what does the reader think the 
story is to be? 



QUESTIONS FOR STUDY 237 

Canto Second 

i. What is brought into this canto to make the narrative more 
complicated? 

2. What is the purpose of the scene between Ellen and Allan- 
bane? 

3. When and where has Malcolm Graeme been mentioned before? 
What do you learn of him? 

4. Compare the introduction of Roderick Dhu into the story with 
that of James Fit z- James. 

5. What is gained by having Douglas and Roderick Dhu return 
at the same time? 

6. Does Ellen's reluctance to join in the welcome seem natural? 
Explain clearly Ellen's attitude to Rhoderick Dhu, and what claim 
he had on her. 

7. State the various things, from the moment of his arrival, 
which caused Roderick Dhu to violate the laws of hospitality. 

8. What events in Canto Third are foreshadowed by this canto? 

Canto Third 

1. Give a description and history of Brian the Hermit and show 
how he fits into the story. 

2. Where has Malise figured before this? 

3. Tell the story of the Fiery Cross. What is the significance of 
the incidents described in the journey of Malise with the cross? 

4. What is the purpose of Canto Third? Would the story be 
complete without it? 

Canto Fourth 

1. How does the prophecy related in the early part of this canto 
affect our interest? 

2. How is the Taghairm related to the story of the cross and its 
journey? 

3. Give in detail the result of Malise's journey, the news he 
brought, and its effect on Roderick's plan of action. 

4. What is Scott's purpose in bringing in Blanche of Devan? 

5. Does the ballad of Alice Brand seem out of place? 

6. What is the effect of Fitz- James's arrival? 

7. How is the Taghairm fulfilled? 

8. What is the purpose of this canto in the development of the 
story? 

Canto Fifth 

1. What is the purpose of the dialogue in the early part of this 
canto? 

2. How do the games in the latter part hasten the action? 



238 QUESTIONS FOR STUDY 

3. Compare Roderick's grievances with those of Fitz-James. 

4. With whom does the reader sympathize during the combat? 
Why? 

5. Why did Douglas return to Stirling? 

6. Why does Scott choose the incident of Lufra as the moment for 
Douglas's outbreak? 

7. How does Fitz-James know that Douglas is Ellen's father? 

8. Can you find excuse for the king's treatment of Douglas? 

9. How is the interest in the story sustained? 



Canto Sixth 

1. Is the incident of the guardroom important? 

2. Is the conclusion sustained and dramatic? 

3. Why does the minstrel tell of the battle to Rhoderick Dhu? 

4. What makes this a suitable final scene for Allan and for 
Roderick? 

Characters 

1. Show that the narrative attempts to throw into prominence 
two racial types. 

2. Bring out in detail the contrast between Fitz-James and 
Roderick Dhu, citing definite episodes to prove your statements. 

3. Is Roderick an attractive or a repellent character to you? 

4. Do the characters seem realistically drawn; do they seem 
real people of actual life? 

5. Does history give Scott any justification for the character of 
James V? For the character of the Douglas? 

6. Describe Allan-bane. What was his position in the clan? 

7. How is Ellen's character displayed? What attributes does 
Scott dwell on in his description of her? 

8. After Malcolm is introduced into the story, how do you feel 
that he compares with the other men of the narrative? 

9. Does the Douglas seem vainglorious as he speaks of his past 
in Canto Second? 

10. How is your opinion of Douglas affected by his refusal to 
coerce Ellen or to fight against the king? 

1 1 . Who is Malise? What purpose does he serve? 



Form 

1. How does the form of the introductory stanzas differ from the 
form of the body of the poem? 

2. Can you discover any plan in the division of the canto into 
slanzas? 



QUESTIONS FOR STUDY 239 

3. What is the meter of the normal line? How many different 
kinds of variation to this normal line do you find? 

4. What onamatopoetic words are used in Canto First? 

5. What is the purpose of the meter in the Boat Song? 

6. Make a list of all the songs that appear in the poem, and indi- 
cate the meter and rhyme scheme of each. 

7. Do you find any difference between this narrative in poetry 
and a prose story of the same kind, in respect to language, thought, 
and expression, other than meter? 













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